Dead Famous
by Shippy1
Summary: CO-written w/ Nikita. AU Challenge response for Jypzroze. Fourteen girls are taken to a beautiful estate on the Island St Lucia in hopes of winning the heart and money of an eligible bachelor. They don't expect the competition to be murder.
1. Default Chapter

Dead Famous A collaboration between Shippy and Nikita **  
** Chapter One 

It was the one o'clock lunch rush at the Espresso Pump.  Two bottle blondes and a redhead were hustling and bustling to get to a vacant table. A wide eyed and triumphant grin broke on the redhead, Willow's, face when she spotted a couple getting up from a table on the other side of the coffee shop. Anya, eyes gleaming, were already on the case and ran gracelessly to the table. She snatched a chair just as a tall, in some eyes good looking, broad shouldered man grabbed a hold of the chair opposite.

"Get your grabby han…" Anya yelled, then paused for a while to observe said hands and the man attached to them for a brief moment. "Smooth, long fingered hands, muscles, yum.  Sit yourself right on down and join us," she commented with a shiny, wide smile that had been known to charm many. Unfortunately, what usually came next from her mouth also chased away most that had fallen for the smile.

_Hook, line and sinker. Wonder for how long?  _Buffy, the other blonde, thought as she made her way over to the table with Willow, and Mr. Tall and Bulky shrugged and sat himself down as demanded. Willow sat down as well, quirking a sceptic eyebrow at the guy and Anya before glancing at Buffy. Buffy just gave a nod that said, "Let's wait and see" while smiling slyly and conspiratorially.

"So Mr…?" Anya asked while measuring his abs with her eyes. He opened his mouth to respond, but Anya continued so fast that Buffy and Willow only caught that the name began with B. Anya was on a mission. "So what is it you do? Do you make a lot of money?" Anya beamed hopefully

"Um. I'm a sales clerk at Nordstrom so it's not that much. Yet. Things are looking great though so I might be climbing the corporate ladder. You might be looking at the next supervisor," Mr. B Something responded proudly. Willow and Buffy both had to repress chuckles on the wide range of emotions his statement earned from Anya.  Her face went from nose scrunching when her prospect mentioned a career in retail, to lit up as he mentioned career climbing, then back to disappointed when she realized his goals were to be a department store supervisor.

"Retail. Hm, " Anya contemplated out loud. "Well he has _some _ambitions, gotta admire ambitions. We'll just have to work on heightening them a bit, won't we, Bart?" Anya said smiling and patting his hand. 

"Actually its Brian," he corrected a bit offended both by the name mishap and Anya's condescending tone and manor. Anya turned to Buffy, completely ignoring Brian's response

"I mean, so what if he's in retail _now_. It might be worthwhile as long as he can give me orgasms," Anya ended in a whisper, but it was still loud enough so that the entire table could hear. The whispering was necessary because for some strange reason she couldn't understand, the O word embarrassed her friends.  Willow hid her smile behind her hand, but couldn't suppress the giggle.  Brian, looking more flustered then ever, mumbled about needing to head over and talk to a friend.  He stood hastily, and practically rushed away.

"What!" Anya huffed, offended at Willow. Then she saw that poor Brian was making a beeline for the door. "Hey, wait! What are you doing? Where are you going?" When her calls went unnoticed by Brian she slumped in her chair and sulked. "Okay, what did I do _this_ time?"

Willow was still laughing so hard she was gasping for air and clutching her stomach. Buffy was trying really hard to remain composed for her social tact inept friend.

"Anya, remember when we told you about cutting down on the use of the word orgasm out in public? Especially to strangers?" Buffy asked, then cut off Anya as she opened her mouth to reply, a hurt look on her face. "Oh I know… the whispering thing. _Great _progress.  Really.  Next time you might even skip it all together, that's all." 

"Like I'd _want_ to date such an easily intimidated man anyway," Anya groaned, sulking.

"There you go chasing away one of my potential tippers again," Dawn Summers, Buffy's 19 year old sister said resignedly as she stepped up to the three friends' table. "You _so_ owe me a big tip for that one. What do you want to drink?" she asked, pulling out her pen and notepad out of the apron.

"Hey, Dawnie. How about a double latte for me," Buffy greeted, giving her sister a little wave.  Willow gave a big smile and ordered the same for herself while Anya mouthed 'Decaf', jerkily tilting her head towards Willow. This did not go unnoticed by the redhead.

"That was one time! And I had had _four_ doubles_._ Besides, I was nervous to begin with, so you would have been all blubber mouthy too! Anyway, you chase guys away even without the help of coffee." 

"Try explaining that to poor Tommy," Anya countered slyly.  "I'm sure he'd be interested in why his calm, studyish date decided to do a dance number on the table."

Buffy laughed at that, and Willow stuck her tongue out.  Anya turned to Dawn.

"Aren't you adorable. Nineteen and already joining the ranks of the American work force. And you've got that cute little apron and that cute little notepad…" Anya said, resisting the urge to pinch the teen on the cheek. Dawn just rolled her eyes and left the three friends to their bickering.  

"So, Dawn having fun at her summer job as a Barista?" Willow asked Buffy.

"Yup, I really think she is. It's all she ever talks about. I just wish someone would stop letting her sample everything, because calls from giddy, caffeine pumped sister is really starting to get old," Buffy emphasized. "I think it's even starting to get to Mom now that Dawn's living home for the summer"

"How about you? That Aikido/Yoga thing at the rec center working out for you?" Willow asked.

"Yes, tell us. For instance, any ruggedly handsome men in your classes?" Anya piped in, with a little wiggling of her eyebrows. Buffy rolled her eyes, wondering if her friend could go ten minutes without thinking of A. Men, or B. Money. Willow on the other hand recognized Anya's statement for what it really was. Encouraging Buffy to hook up with someone 

"I love the work, Wills and yes, Anya I'm sure there's guys that would suit your taste."

"Right, a guy going to a _public_ rec center to take Yoga and Aikido classes?" Anya mock contemplated this for a brief second before going on "You know what, I really don't see any stock brokers doing that. Getting a job at a country club, maybe. Besides, look what I just entered," Anya said, taking out a flyer from her purse.

The flyer was done in cheesy pastels with a script title that said "Till death do us part".  Willow completely ignored the flyer while Buffy eyed it with a scrunched nose.

"I think you sort of missed Anya's point, being that _you_ need to meet someone. Go on a date. You know, dinner, movie, maybe some smoochies at the end of the night. Have some fun! Remember what fun means, Buffy?" Willow managed to pry Buffy's attention away from the tacky flyer.

"Yes, Willow, I remember," Buffy said exasperated, silently adding._ Especially since you use every available moment to remind me. _"Besides, I did go out on a date. Just the other day. With that Forrest guy that you set me up with from your work," Buffy pouted while remembering the horrific date it had been. He had talked on and on about his work as a journalist and when Buffy brought up the subject of creative writing he had laughed and proceeded to tell stories making fun of the authors who were published in the Saturday edition of the paper. Dreading how he would make fun of her if she told him that she secretly dreamt of getting some of her short stories published in that paper, she ruled him completely incompatible with her.

"Buffy, that was 6 months ago and his name was Ford. Forrest's my boss," Willow said, frustrated in Buffy's seemingly lack of interest in having a love life. "You've got to stop beating yourself up about what happened between you and Richard. Yes, when you were eighteen you thought he was the long haul guy, but you guys grew apart. That happens. Stop beating yourself up with it" 

It was all well and good, Buffy reasoned, to understand that growing apart happened.  Accepting it was a different issue.  She knew that there was no going back, wouldn't go back even if she could.  Picking up again as though it had never happened, risking getting hurt so badly again…she was starting to wonder if it was even worth it.

Any discussion on Buffy's love life or lack there of, was halted as Dawn returned to the table with the coffee and Anya impatiently flopped around the flyer. Since the worst part of the lunch rush was over, Dawn sat herself down with her sister and her friends.

"Sorry, Anya, you were saying?" Remembering, Buffy again grabbed the flyer. "Tell me this isn't what I think it is? This isn't one of those dating agency thingies?"

"No, it's one of those TV show thingies. Where pretty girls like myself compete to get the heart and money of a rich bachelor by backstabbing each other and bribing him with… offers of copulation." Anya corrected cheerfully, opting for words other than orgasm, since she knew Buffy was especially sensitive about reference to any sexual phrases when Dawn was present. She thought copulation wasn't in the teen's vocabulary. Unfortunately she also made an obscene gesture with her hand to make sure Buffy and Willow got the point and Dawn got it too. She took one look and started giggling at Anya's antics and Buffy's horrified, blushing face.

"Anya! Impressionable young mind present!" Buffy scolded.

"She's nineteen, Buffy, I'm sure she knows about things by now," Willow put in, reminding Buffy that her sister wasn't a baby in need of mollycoddling anymore.

"She better not," Buffy grumbled.

"I'm going to go now," Dawn said standing up. "Not because what you're talking about is embarrassing me. Although…eww! But I get this feeling that my sister will explode if I stick around any longer, so maybe I'll go." Dawn grinned, and resumed her work, but made a note of the flyer with the TV show. 

"You're not seriously joining one of those reality shows? The whole purpose is for the company to earn money while young women degrade themselves.  You'd never…" She paused, realizing that this was very much something Anya would like to do.

"That's where you're wrong, Willow," Anya sniffed. "The purpose it mutual sharing of orgasms and getting money.  I sent the application in today, and expect to be notified of when to start soon!" The thought of auditions or her maybe not getting qualified completely escaped Anya. 

"Maybe you should enter too, Buffy." Anya thought out loud.  It would be just the prefect thing to get her friend out of her misery.  While she planned to personally snag Mr. Rich for herself, a little practice dating would do Buffy good.

"Absolutely not!" Willow screeched.

"What do you mean? You were just saying that Buffy needed to date more," Anya defended her cause.

"Yes, she does but those things are fake, ridiculous and not to mention cheap. I will not let my bestest friend be subjected to that," Willow argued. Buffy rolled her eyes as the conversation centered around her lovelife again. 

When the little beeper on her alarm went off, Anya stopped mid-word and jumped up.  Her theory was that if she arrived at her job, which ironically enough was in retail, half an hour early, the boss would see how dedicated she was and give her a raise, as well as put her in administrative.  

"Your loss, Buffy," she called as she ran out.

Willow chucked, getting up herself.  One perk of being an LA times journalist was the flexible hours, but she still came in as much as often.  You never know when the story might come in, she reasoned.

The two friends walked out the door together, where they separated, Willow going to work and Buffy going to her mom's gallery.  

In their hurry to leave, all three had forgotten about the _Till Death Do Us Part_ flyer still lying on the table. Dawn wandered over and picked it, putting it in her apron with a smile.

Buffy hadn't had anything resembling a lovelife or a date in ages. In Dawn's opinion, a little intervention was due.


	2. Chapter 2

The smell of salt was the first thing he noticed when he got off the plane.  That moist, ocean smell that always triggered the memory of splashing in waves and picking sea shells off the beach.  The smell of St. Lucia.

Spike shoved his sun glasses further up his nose, slung his bag over his shoulder, and surveyed the crowd, looking for a familiar face.  He grinned as he saw his old friend showing his way towards him and walked the rest of the way, meeting him in a one armed hug.

            "Spike!  Man, it's good to see you again."

            "You too, mate.  And from your message I gather we've got the job?"

Xander performed a little jig in the middle of the road, grinning all the while.

            "Not only did we get it, but they want us to start right away.  They chose the spot we suggested too, so it's all good for your uncle."

Spike chuckled, his friend's excitement spreading.

            "Yeah, figured it might be.  When I was a kid we'd always come 'ere for vacations and stay with Rupes.  I'll never understand 'ow he got it, but it's bloody brilliant.  There's these volcanoes, and white beaches… 's really nice."

            "I believe you buddy, cause this is my dream come true," agreed Xander.  "Lots of mula, hot girls, the coolest places, and working with you again."

            "Sure, I'm last on that list," Spike jibed.  "Bout the girls, don't get your hopes up.  Probably all snobby, barbie faced, rich wanabees.  Who else'd enter the contest?"

            "You might be surprised," Xander reported.  "I'm sure they're all beautiful and intelligent, interested in long moonlit walks on the beach, and candlelit dinners with 

poe –" He laughed, ducking out of the way of Spike's mock punch.  "Seriously though, you're probably right.  If it were me, I'd never enter."

            "Harris mate, if you tried to enter, they'd throw you out."

            "Says you!  I'll have you know that there are lots of people hot for my tight little body and charming personality."

They reached the car and climbed in, still bickering enjoyably.  

            "I rented this little apartment five minutes from the set.  Two bedrooms, a kitchen, the works.  It's great, and really cheap too.  Only bad side is that we're right under this old French lady."

            "Don't follow you," Spike frowned.  "Why's it matter?"

Xander grinned in the manner of one cradling a large bomb in his arms.

            "It matters, 'mate', because said old lady camps out in front of our door and tries to keep us out.  The landlord also caught her sneaking into the kitchen window this one time, she tried to light the house on fire.  Also?  She doesn't speak a word of English."

Spike stared at him open-mouthed for a second before dissolving into laughter.

            "You're playing me Harris, right?"  He paled when Xander shook his head.  "You couldn't find a room without a stalker?"

            "Actually, nope, I couldn't.  The place is popular for summer vacation, and everything is booked."

Spike considered this a second before shrugging.

            "If nothing else mate, this trip is bound to be interesting."

            "That it is."

They finished the short trip in companionable silence.  Every year since they had gotten their working papers, they had gotten a job together for the summer.  All previous summers had been simple – mowing a bunch of lawns, helping with construction, serving at some restaurant, working for a newspaper...but this was different.  This was their first job miles away from home, away from almost everyone who knew them.  Both were determined to do it well.

Xander had been hired as co-producer in a reality show, Till Death Do Us Part, and had asked if there would be a job for Spike a well.  It turned out that the other producer had skipped out the week before, and Spike was more than qualified. The contracts were signed.  

            "Not that I'm not grateful…but why'd they hire us, do you think?"

Xander shrugged, not taking his eyes off the road.

            "They were impressed that we both went to UCLA, I guess.  I sent a sample of some of the work we did there, and they liked it.  Probably it's also that they wanted your uncle's property to work on."

            "Yeah, 's probably it.  Guess all those classes are finally paying off."

            "Like you didn't enjoy them…" 

Xander pulled up in front of a simple, neat apartment building.  They each grabbed a suitcase and made their way upstairs, pausing in front of the door where a wizered old woman stood.

            _"Salut homme sale, sortir maintenant!" _

Xander stared at her blankly and Spike sorted through his brief dictionary of French, which mostly consisted of swears.

            "All I know's that she's not cussin' at us."

The old woman continued screaming, pointing furiously at the door.  Xander flashed her what he hoped was a winning smile, before pointing at the door himself.

            "That is our house," he mimed, pointing at himself then at the apartment.  "You," he pointed at her, "Leave.  Shoo!!"

The yelling paused while she stared, then returned full blast.  

_            "Imbecile! Tout les hommes sont imbeciles"_

            "Think you've made things worse, mate…

            _"Comment oser vous entrez dans cette maison de mes pères? Hors! Hors!"_

They stared at each other helplessly.  

            "What do you suppose we…could we lure her away somehow?"

Spike shrugged, ready to simply pick her up and dump her somewhere.  Preferably in Bermuda. 

            "Er…how about this.  We'll give you money?" Xander asked, holding up a dollar bill.  "M.O.N.E.Y."  He offered the dollar, and the woman snatched it greedily.  

            _"L'argent est bon même des américains sans valeur"_

She gave a satisfied sniff, and walked daintily away, her handbag swinging at her side.  

            "What'd she say?" Xander asked, staring after her.

            "Somethin' about worthless Americans…"

He shrugged and opened the door, dragging his suitcase inside the neat room.  A TV stood on a stand next to a bookshelf, which was empty.  One ratty sofa stood on the opposite side of the room, along with a few chairs.  A quick survey of the rest of the house revealed two small bedrooms with big beds and nothing else, a tiny bathroom, and a walk in kitchen.

Xander dug around in his suitcase until he found the doormat he had bought special, and proudly dumped it outside the door, where they both stood staring at it.

            "Welcome to our Hovel, indeed."

A/N: Pardon our French. No, really. Nik hasn't had a French lesson in 3 years and Shippy hasn't in…. Ever. So for those less linguistically challenged, you are bound to pick out a few grammatical errors.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three 

Buffy was tired. Actually, she was so beyond tired that she was completely exhausted. Wednesdays usually did that to her, when her schedule held ten forty-five minute classes in a row at the local recreation center. It actually took her an effort to climb up to the 3rd floor apartment that she lived in, and the stairs got seemed never ending. She unlocked the door and stepped inside, throwing down her keys on the hallway vanity.  She automatically pressed the answering machine's play button, picking up the mail and sorting it through while she made the way to the fridge for a glass of milk.  Or maybe she'd take a glass of the Chablis tonight.

The first message on the machine was from Anya, screeching excitedly about a letter she had gotten. It took until her tired mind a few moments to catch "Till Death Do Us Part" and understand it was the show thingy her friend was so happy about.

            "And so you have to come to the auditions with me, and offer me moral support, because that's what friends do.  And you're my friend, right?  You'd better be.  And anyway, I need to borrow your shoes."

Buffy shook her head at the telephone version of Anya's voice.  

            "In your dreams," she told the phone.  And stuck her tongue at it to make a point.

Idly sorting her mail into 'junk' important' and 'icky bills' piles, she continued to listen to her messages.  She was opening the letter on top of her important pile as Dawn's message played. It was the fourth time she had called in two days. Every call had been strange, even for Dawn.  She grinned as her sisters would be innocent voice asked if there was anything new in her life?  

            "New bills, for one thing," she grumbled, eyes bugging out as she glanced at the electricity.    Shrugging, she reached over and grabbed the next envelope from the important looking pile, tearing it open.

_Dear Buffy Anne Summers,_

_An application to Till Death Do Us Apart - A Caritas Production has been received and reviewed. We are pleased to announce that the application has been approved and we would very much like to meet you for further interviews at the Hyperion Hotel Saturday, June 14th._

_If this date does not fit your schedule you can also write us at the return address and we can arrange a meeting in one of the following locations on the West Coast._

Buffy sat down heavily and closed her eyes.  She'd had a long day.  Her mind was a puddle of mush, which saw things that weren't there.  When she opened her eyes again, the letter would be gone.  Right.

She squeezed open one eye, and the damn thing was still there, staring at her.

If, by any chance you didn't send an application and you are interested in knowing who did, send a letter to the return address.

_Kindest regards,_

_Excecutive Producer_

_Lorne Caritas_

Buffy didn't need to send a letter, she knew exactly who had sent it. After all Anya had been pretty eager to get her to do it. She was heading towards the phone to give Anya a loud call and tell her that the thought was appreciated, but she could take care of herself when the phone buzzed

.

"Hello," Buffy answered

"This is _insane_, it's absolutely insane. Who would do such a thing? I mean who would do such a thing to _me_?" Willow's voice, apart from being extremely high pitched, was both panicked and angry.  The last time Wills had been panicked and angry was when Forrest informed her that her article was due in ten minutes.  Forrest had wound up with two swollen toes from an indignant redhead stepping on them with all her strength.

"Willow, calm down, you're rambling and making sense in a way that's not. What's insane that who would do?" Buffy interrupted what was sure to be endless rambling.  

"This!" Willow replied, frustrated that Buffy lacked the magic powers to see what she was pointing to through the phone lines. "The letter. I got a letter, from that stupid television show that Anya is entering. Why would anybody enter me? Who would do something like this to me?" Willow said with a voice full of hurt, sounding every bit as 

though someone had plagiarized a news story she had written.

"I got one too," Buffy said. "And I think I know who entered us. Anya. Hold on. I'm going to use the conference call thingy and ring her up. But don't say a word until I get a confession okay? If you start yelling at her she'll never admit it."

Buffy pressed the keys and dialed Anya's number while Willow impatiently waited.

"Anya Natasha Asya Jenkins, speaking. How may I service you?" came the silky reply.

"Anya, do you know anything about a certain letter I got today? A certain letter that was also sent to Willow?" Buffy growled, skipping polite introductions.

"Oh it's you," Anya sounded disappointed. "I was expecting a call from the cute guy I met at the grocery store earlier. What letter? I didn't send you a letter. Now days we have the nice contraption called a telephone that is a much better social communicative device. Which you should know, since you're using it now. But you never guess who I got a letter from today!"

"Oh I can guess. First of all because though I missed the greater part of your message on my machine, I got the main idea.  And secondly, because both Willow and I got the exact same letter. Sure you don't know anything about that? Positively, 100% sure that you couldn't have, let's say, somehow sent in an application in the names of Buffy Anne Summers and Willow Rosenberg to _Till Death Do us Apart_?" Buffy pushed Anya.

"No, why would I? First of all you weren't interested. Secondly why on earth would I send in an application for Willow. She has no appreciation capitalist superiority which this show clearly is a tribute to. And what would she do there anyway. Charm the bachelor with her oh so sexy brains?!  Please, he would fall asleep after ten minutes of…."

"Ha!" Willow couldn't hold off any longer after Anya had insulted her. "I bet I could charm him more than you any day! I'm smart. And I have social tact and I care about things other than sex and money which is more than I can say about some people."

"Why didn't you tell me Willow was there?" Anya asked reprovingly. "Anyway, hi, Willow. I think you need to find people more your… style. You know, sweet, smart, and boring, Mensa candidates. Really, Willow, you don't honestly think you'd stand a chance against me in a contest like this, do you? Yes, you are smart, but you haven't exactly shown abundance of social intelligence either.  Your ideal date would be what – going to the library for some coffee?  Not _Till Death Do Us Part_ material," Anya finished with a slightly angry and hurt tone. Buffy just sat listening to what was beginning to sound a lot like another argument.

"You know what, you over-bleached blond bimbo?  I'm going to prove you wrong. I'm going to enter the contest and I'm going to last a whole lot longer than you. I bet he'll pick me over you and I'm going to prove that you don't have to be a blonde nymphomaniac to win that thing" Willow said heatedly.

"Fine, guess I'll see you Saturday then," Anya huffed.

"You betcha!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!" They both shrieked in turn and hung up, leaving Buffy blinking and wondering what the hell just happened. She sighed, mentally adding playing diplomat between her two friends in the morning and attending an audition on Saturday to keep them from starting up again, on her to-do list. If Willow didn't change her mind once she cooled off that was.

She was just about to collapse on her bed for some much needed sleep when an unanswered question resurfaced. If Anya didn't enter them, then who did? It didn't take her too long to figure that one out, replaying her sister's calls and odd interest for any news. She picked up the receiver of her nightstand phone before dialing Dawn's direct line in the Summers' residence.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Dawn"

"Hey, Buffy. Did you get my message?" Dawn asked, sounding way too excited for Buffy's tired mind.

"Yes, I did Dawn, and before you ask if something 'new' has happened, let's just skip that part and jump right to the part where you without my consent or Willow's for that matter, entered both of us on a reality show?" 

"Aren't you excited?" Dawn ignored the accusing tone of Buffy's voice and Buffy rolled her eyes as she could practically hear the springs in Dawn's bed squeak from the excited jumping up and down she was probably doing.

"As much as I appreciate the thought, which isn't a whole lot at the moment, considering as a nice side effect I have to play Dr. Phil with Anya and Willow tomorrow, my answer would be no," Buffy replied, doing everything in her power to stifle a yawn.

"Huh?" Dawn asked confused.

"Nothing. Me get letter, Willow get letter. Willow frantically calling me. Me assuming Anya's the one doing the string pulling. Me calling Anya with the conference call thingy. Anya blurting things unknowingly to Willow about Willow. Heated argument between my two best friends ensues," Buffy explained.

"Sorry," Dawn apologized sheepishly.

"Oh that. That's no biggie. That's after all almost a weekly occurrence. Yup, right there in my weekly schedule it says: reconcile Willow and Anya. What is a biggie though is the fact that you entered me in this, Dawn. I'm twenty-five years old and perfectly capable of taking care of myself and making my own decisions including decisions regarding my love life!"

"Come on, Buffy. It's just a little bit of fun. It can't hurt. Call it practice dating. It'll be like going to camp. You get to meet lots of girls and maybe learn a few tricks and what actually does go on in the land of dating, or as I like to call it land of the living.             Where you do not currently live.  Please, just go to the audition. See what happens. Please, pretty please?"

"I can see you making bambi eyes from here," Buffy told her sister.  "And I'm so tired, that I'm going to agree, because you wont let me off the phone until I say yes."

"Yay!!  You'll thank me for this, Buffy, really you will."

"Yeah, sure," Buffy mumbled, hanging up the phone, and finally collapsing on her soft bed.  

_'Not like I'll make it past auditions anyway,_' she thought, before falling asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N – So sorry about half the reviews not showing up.  I didn't delete any, or do anything for that matter, they just disappeared.  I did get them in my email though, so thanks!!  Please, don't forget to leave feedback to keep our muse going, and make the writers very happy. Chapter Four 

Growing up and moving out on your own was well and good, Spike decided. Moving to student dorms had it's own hellish quality, but still had a bigger appeal than living at home with the family. Since college Spike had lived in his share of rotten flats, but that still didn't make him miss home. But when the place you move to looked like this, living at home started to sound really good.   

Nothing worked.  The faucets gushed brown water when they consented to be turned on at all.  The stove wasn't electric and you had to use a match to coax flame in, causing Xander to light their curtains on fire.  The microwave had no power, and it took twenty minutes to warm up a cup of water.  And Spike couldn't find his cigarettes.

            "People got along without electricity for hundreds of years.  I'm sure we could do it for a couple of weeks," Xander pointed out, then laughed when Spike glared at him.  

            "Sod electricity.  Don't give a flying fuck about the stove now.  Just need to find 'm fags."  

The sight of his usually calm and collected friend running around and peering under cushions set Xander off again, causing him to squeak somewhat unmanly when Spike got on hands and knees to look under the stove.  They were in a hurry to get to the set where all pre-production work would be done, since they had meetings with the rest of the crew.

            "Spike?  Spike, come on.  We have to stop by the convenient store before heading over to the lot to meet the cameraman anyway, you can buy a new pack of cancer sticks there," Xander said, heading out the door.

Nodding and looking sheepish, Spike grabbed his friend outside.  

            "Weren't you going to quit?" Xander asked suddenly, frowning at the decidedly guilty expression.  "Yes you were, I remember.  What happened?"

            "Said I'd try to quit…didn't say when I'd start trying," Spike threw over his shoulder as he sped up, seeing the store up ahead.

            "So when are you gonna start trying?"

A winning smile was flashed his way.

            "Right after this pack."

            "Sure, buddy.  Whatever you say."

            "Who's our cameraman? " Spike asked, deftly switching the topic.

            "His name is Daniel Osbourne and that's all I know," Xander replied.

They made their way into the crowded store, and Xander lost sight of Spike as his friend went off to find the long lost ciggy's.  Shrugging, he picked up a twix bar.  He'd be able to burn it off while they walked to the set.  Five minutes walking had to be worth at least two twix bars.  Which meant that he could take the snickers and skittles too, and not gain much.  

Xander grinned at the logic of it, and waved Spike over when he saw the familiar blond head in the crowd, this time accompanied by another, much shorter one.  It was orange.

            "Xan, this is Oz," Spike introduced, fingers tapping away on his cigarette box. Xander looked confused. "Our camera man?" Spike explained exasperatedly, itching to get his cigarettes paid for and step out to take a few puffs. 

Xander grinned, offering a little wave.  

            "Guess we're not in Kansas anymore, then."

Spike grinned, and the guy called Oz just blinked a little slower, then nodded.

            "So Oz? Cool nickname. You're a cameraman? That's gotta be cool.  Camera's are fun to play with," Xander said, trying to make conversation.  

            "Yeah," Oz agreed.

Xander laid out his purchases on the counter, glaring when the cigarettes went down with them.  

            "What?  's not my fault.  You rushed me out so fast, forgot the wallet."

Glaring even more, Xander stuffed them on a nearby shelf, and grabbed a few lollipops instead.

            "Smoking bad."

            "Aw come on, mate.  Lemme pick my poison."

Grumbling under his breath, Xander paid, and hefted the bad over his shoulder.

            "Your choice of poison poisons me.  Second hand smoke, remember?"

Spike didn't dignify that with a response, instead grabbing a cherry flavored pop and crunching on it loudly.  

            "We'll be late," Oz pointed out mildly.

            "Oh, right.  Lets go, then."

They made a strange group, Xander imagined.  Himself, in jeans and a bright Hawaiian shirt, carrying a shopping bag.  Oz, with his shortness and orange hair, walking quietly.  And Spike, in all his lollipop chomping glory, walking sullenly along dressed all in black.

            "Come on, Spike, there are worse things in life than not smoking.  This is our first big job.  We wanna make a good impression, right?"

            "An' what's wrong with the impression I'm givin' right now?"

            "Well," Xander lowered his voice to a quiet whisper.   "You could try looking a little less sullen and…broody."

            "Broody?  You think I'm broody?"  He turned to Oz in desperation.  "Am I brooding?  Course I'm not.  Bloody brooding…"

            "Sorry Spike, you're doing some very manly pondering," Xander giggled.

            "Bloody right."

Xander grinned, mock punching his friend on the shoulder and quickening his pace.

            "Now cheer up.  We're gonna be on a show with hot girls trying on bathing suits all over the place.  We're making mucho dinero."

            "We're living in a dump," Spike pointed out.

            "Come on man.  You're living with your best pal and paradise is waiting just outside.  Tell me that isn't something to be happy about."

In spite of himself, Spike grinned.  

            "Only gonna say this once mate, but you're right," Spike said, swallowing the urge to stick his tongue out, and contenting himself with murmuring, "'s bound to happen once in awhile."

            "I heard that," Xander warned.

They stopped, realizing at the same time that Oz wasn't with them, but standing a few feet behind.

            "Door," he pointed out, walking inside.  

            "Right…"

The set looked unlike any they'd ever seen.  People were milling around everything, building was still going on, and a bunch of harassed looking workers practically ran out of the office.

            "Beware of the host, man.  He's like – British," one said as he walked past.

            "Imagine that," Spike called after him, scowling.  Bloody Yankees…

Blinking still slower, Oz knocked on the door once, and stepped back.  Almost at once, it was opened, and they were ushered in.  

            "Very well, very well…who are you?" 

All three turned to face the figure sitting rigidly in the chair and pouring over something on the desk.

            "I'm Xander, this is Spike, and that's Oz," Xander offered helpfully.

            "A Xander, a Spike, and an Oz.  Bloody hell, why did I leave England?"

Taking a step forward, Spike smirked.

            "Yeah, why did you mate?"

For the first time, the man looked up, revealing a tired looking face and drooping eyes.

            "You're the – what?  Oz?"

Grumbling to himself, Spike stepped closer.

            "I'm Spike, the bright one is Xander, and he's Oz."

            "Ah, I see.  They're really quite—er, yes.  On to business, I suppose.  You two are the producers, I believe?  And you, you're the camera man?"

At the nods he received, he clapped his hands briskly and stood.

            "Lovely.  My name is Wesley, I'm the host. Lorne, our Excecutive producer is unattainable at the moment since he's off somewhere supervising the auditions of the girls himself. That's why he's given me temporary carte blanche regarding the administrative"

            "Er…nice to meet you," Xander piped up.   

Distractedly, Wesley nodded, handing them all stacks of papers.

            "On those are a preliminary list of your assignments, and everything you need to know.  Right then.  Out with you all, we're swamped with people.  Be here next Monday, 8am sharp."

They filed out of his office, and it slammed shut behind them.

            "Spike, man.  That guy, he really was…"

            "British," Spike growled, glaring at the door.  "Yeah mate.  He was."

            "I'm off," Oz said.  "Band's playing at a club.  See you Monday."

He half smiled, then walked out, leaving Xander staring after.

            "That was the longest sentence I've heard him say so far."

            "Yeah, peculiar little fellow'" Spike observed. "Well, you heard the boss, we got until Monday off. How about we give paradise a proper inspection?" Spike grinned.

            "Beaches, girls in skimpy bikinis, and delicious Piña Coladas here we come," Xander grinned back rubbing his hands together. Spike quirked his scarred eyebrow at the mention of the drinks. 

"Oh, I mean, manly umbrella-free beverages, here we come," Xander covered.

"Too right."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Saturday morning came, but did not bring, as she had expected, Willow's withdrawal from the contest.  Instead, her usually calm and conservative friend dragged her off to the mall, insisting that she had nothing to wear for the interview.  Anya tagged along.

            "If you're resorting to copying the way I dress, it should be a big hint," she remarked, critically looking over a red skirt.

Outraged, Willow retreated to another rack and grabbed a frilly white one.  

            "I was just looking at it b-because it's so ugly!  No one in their right minds would wear that.  Right Buffy?"

            "Uh-huh."

 Scowling, Anya waved her hand in front of Buffy's face.  

            "You're not going dressed like that, are you?"

Buffy looked down at her jeans and white peasant shirt.  

            "I was planning on it, yeah."

            "I probably shouldn't do this," Anya sighed.  "Since you're one of my rivals, and I'm supposed to hope you trip and break your nose, and get disqualified on the spot so I get a clear path to the pot of gold.  So I'm making a sacrifice here – and you better appreciate it.  This is my good deed of the year."

With that, she decidedly took a knee length blue skirt from the racks, then grabbed a white tank top, and shoved the whole lot into an empty dressing room and disappeared to another section.  She came back a few seconds later holding strappy white sandals, threw them into the room as well, and stood waiting.

            "Well, aren't you going to try them on?"

Somewhat reluctantly, Buffy retreated inside.  She really didn't want to make a bigger fuss about this audition.

            "You better not expect me to pay for those," came the yell from outside.  "The good deed doesn't go that far."

Two hours later found them exhausted, sweating, pissed off, but pretty.  

            "I look way better than you, you know," Anya stated with a trace of her usual perkiness

            Willow and Buffy didn't respond.

They sat silently for a few minutes, looking around.  Then Willow raised herself and smiled bravely.

            "What time's Dawnie meeting us there?"

            "Half an hour.  We should probably get going."

            "I don't get why she's meeting us there," Anya huffed, not really thrilled about the idea of a teenager added to the mix. What if someone decided that Dawn should enter? Yes, Anya was sexier, more experienced, and more financially wise. But she wouldn't deny that these types of shows sometimes had a preference for younger and Dawn _was_ younger.

            "I think she wants to be there and make sure I don't back out. But don't worry. The day I let my sister enter anything like the audition, will be the day hell freezes over," Buffy supplied.. At the relieved expression on Anya's face, it occurred to her that they had just shared a thought.  Which was  a very scary thing.

The car ride there was short and quiet, to Buffy's immense relief.  Not that she didn't love hanging with her friends and buying clothes.  On the contrary, they were two of her favorite things.  But now as they got closer and closer to Hyperion, everything, from the too blond of Anya's hair, to the frantic little motions Willow was making, annoyed her.  

What were they thinking?  On the way to an audition for a show where they would be part of a hormonal horde of women all trying to get the same rich guy.  This was right up Anya's alley, yes.  Not so much her and Willow. Never in a million years she would have thought she'd go to am audition for some matchmaking reality television show. Or any reality TV for that matter. Okay, so maybe Eco Challenge but that wasn't really a TV show.

            "Oh god…I can't do this."

Anya patted her hand in what she considered a friendly gesture.  

            "If, by some strange chance, you make it in – you could always try some of that aikido on the guy.  Break his wrist or something, and then I'll get a chance to show off my nurse-y skills.  I'm very skilled at the Florence Nightingale act."

For a moment, Buffy just stared dumbly at her friend.  Then she cracked up.

            "Sometimes, Anya," she managed through her laughter.  "You know exactly the right thing to say."

            "It's a gift," Anya assured her, smiling.

Her mood brightened considerably, Buffy pulled up at the Hyperion Hotel.  A couple of reporters were doing their best to be concealed by bushes, while the bolder ones stepped right up to the arriving women. The excecutive producer was well-known and most reporters in LA wanted to do a cover of his new project.

            "What made you enter the contest?"

            "Have you met the bachelor yet?"

            "Do you have a criminal record?"

_What??  _Buffy stood on her tiptoes, trying to see over the many heads in front of them, looking for someone who worked there.  

            "Hey, look," she called, at how many people were heading inside.  "Maybe we're just supposed to go in…let's go."

The hotel's lobby might as well have been the place where the Miss California Beauty Pageant was being held, judging by all the women that milled around practicing their interviews and fixing up their make-up.  Some waved nervously, and others visibly turned up their noses, looking away.

            "Buffy?  Hey, Buffy, over here!"

Catching sight of a frantically waving Dawn, they made their way towards her.  

            "Isn't it great?  There's so many people, and hey, I think the interviews are gonna be on TV!"

Willow nervously clutched her clothes, looking at herself.  

            "Oh god…oh god, what am I doing?  Buffy, what am I doing?  The last time I was on TV was the fifth grade science fair!  Oh god…what if I make a fool out of myself?"

Buffy glanced quickly at Anya to see how she would take it, but for once, she seemed too busy to care, murmuring something under her breath and fixing her hair.

A strange hush seemed to fall across the hall as the man with the lime green suit stepped into view.  A blonde valley-girl standing next to them whispered that it was Lorne Caritas, the executive producer himself. 

            "Alright, my honey buns.  I'm gonna go and give each of you sweet things a number and a time.  When your time comes, you get your little hineys through that door and into the interview room, where I'll make you sing."

With a dazzling smile, he got to it, walking around the myriad of girls and handing them the little slips of paper from his basket.  

            "Sing?" Anya whispered frantically.  "I'll have you know that nowhere, in the thousands of books I've read, does it list singing as a necessary quality for a wife.  This is un-constitutional, I can't believe it, a complete trampling of my rights.  I should sue."

            "Anya!" Buffy hissed.  "Be quiet, he's two feet away from you!"

            "And now he's no feet away from you," put in Lorne, hopping up and handing each a slip.

            "Wait, no, she's not entering," Buffy burst out as Dawn's fingers closed around the paper.  "She's just my sister."

Lorne sighed, patting Dawn on the head.

            "Maybe in a few years then, huh sweetness?  Right, don't forget to be on time."

            "Wow," Dawn breathed out, watching him go.  

A delicate snort sounded behind them as Lorne went off to his next victims.

            "Yeah, like wow," the blonde huffed.  "Bringing baby sis to the audition for moral support?"  

Scowling, Buffy glared at the girl before averting her eyes.  She was squashed into a too-tight hot pink dress that showed more than Buffy ever wanted to see. 

            "Hey – don't turn away from me!  I'm _so_ gonna get into this thing, and get the guy, and you'll be married to Mr. Radioshack or something, and living like in a …trailor park!"

            "Look, _missy_," Anya hissed, glaring as well.  "A husband does not automaticly get you money. Yes, it's the most labor free way of acquiring it, but certainly not the most admirable. Buffy has a good shot on success _both_ in this contest and making money if she doesn't. Because she's smart and able to talk in full sentences, without abusing the American language. Which is more than I can say for you."

Stunned, the blonde stared, openmouthed at Anya.  

            "That's just – I can't believe…you're like, strange, and my name's Harmony, not Missy" she said, then turned her back and went off to complain to someone.

            "Thanks," Anya grinned, waving cheerfully.  

            "Anya…you lied earlier," Buffy said, smiling. Off of Anya's confused look Buffy elaborated. "You said, giving me a makeover was; and I quote, _This is my good deed of the year_. You just defended me. Although a little unnecessary since I couldn't care less what little Miss Bimbo shoved inside pink dress thinks about me, it's still so sweet" Buffy said with an exaggerated sweet voice.

Pleased with herself, Anya smiled back.  Just then, Lorne's voice drifted into the room.  

            "Number 3?  Come on out sweetie, I don't bite."

            "Wonder who number 3 is," Buffy commented, shrugging.  

            "Whoever it is, is screwing up their chances completely by keeping him waiting."

Sighing, Buffy methodically made holes in the number slip, then turned it up to examine.  And shrieked.

            "Oh my god!  I'm number 3!"

Going into action at once, Anya dragged her to the door and shoved her through, smiling with satisfaction at the yelp.

            "She's made a good entrance," she said, pleased, and shut the door.

_________

Inside the office, Buffy was met by Lorne Caritas and two others that Buffy guessed would be evaluating her.

"There you are, sweetcheeks!  Was beginning to think you ran away."

Eyes wide, Buffy stumbled forward, and sat with relief on the chair.  

            "Forgot my number, sorry," she told him, blushing.  

            "Now don't be nervous, k sugar?  Not gonna pull your teeth out here, just ask you a few questions."

Nodding, she arranged her face in what she hoped looked like a calm smile.

            "What's your name, sweet-pea?" Lorne asked. Buffy answered, idly wondering if the man, that had until now called her a wider range of affectionate names than she'd ever been, would use her real name now.

            "Now.  Why'd you go with the blue and white combination?"

_You're supposed to answer now_, her brain supplied.

            "Well…um, well, I didn't really.  Does it even matter?"

Scratching his chin, Lorne sighed.

            "No, not really.  The designer looks familiar though…who is it?"

            "No clue really, a friend picked it out," Buffy told him, struggling not to laugh.

This wasn't too bad.  Lorne was nice, a little crazy, but nice, and he wasn't asking her opinion on the economic situation in Tahiti, so it was alright with her.  

            "Next question now.  What'ddya do for a living, dollface?"

            "I teach at a recreational center.  Aikido, martial arts."

Laughing happily, he jumped up.  

            "A real kick-ass lady!   So technically, you could knock me on my shiny hiney right this minute?"

At her nod, he scratched his chin again.

            "Not that I would though," she hastily supplied.  "Against all the codes, and stuff."

            "That's a relief, honey.  Why'd you enter the tournament?"

            "Um, my sister sent an application?" Buffy supplied hesitantly, knowing deep down that it wasn't the answer he was looking for.

Lorne chuckled.

            "Just because you sis sent an application didn't mean you'd have to drag your tush all the way down here. Why'd you decide to go ahead and enter the audition"

The question she had been dreading.  To tell the truth, and get disqualified because of lack of interes, or to make up some story which she probably should have planned before hand, and maybe get in.  _I don't _really_ care about getting in, and have no interest in the guy. But what've I got to loose?_ She finally decided.

            "As I told you, my younger sister entered me and my friend. To make a long story short, that and the fact that my friend decided to go ahead with the auditioning, is what got me this far. It's kinda unreal just being here, considering I've never even watched the show. I guess I'm just giving it a chance since I promised my sister and my friend is."

            "Hum…at least you're not giving me crack about how you've waited your whole life, blah blah blah.  It's an improvement, dollface.  Now, one last thing before I let you fly.  Would you mind singing for me?"

            "Sing?" Buffy croaked out taken aback and just a little bit worried.

            "Come on, sweets.  Just a little snippet.  They say the voice is the window to the soul, don't they?"

            "Actually, they don't.  The say the eyes are," Buffy feeling the panic surfacing. She was well aware that she couldn't hold a tone. She cast a glance towards the two other judges for any sign that Lorne was joking, but they just looked bored.

            " Don't worry, hun. I'm just playing with ya," Lorne said, finally able to release the laugh he's been withholding, from Buffy's surprised and worried expression.

            "Don't mention it, babe.  Just check your phone messages tomorrow."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six 

Spike and Xander had managed to rent a jeep from the car rental and were on their way to Spike's uncle's house. Lorne, the excecutive producer, was due to arrive this afternoon with the list of entrants, which they would look at over dinner.  Spike had mixed feelings about seeing old uncle Rupert again.  On one hand, he was family.  On the other, since he'd grown up, he'd only spoke to his uncle a few times.

His uncle, Rupert Giles, was 52 years old and was, much like Spike, considered the black sheep of the family. Rupert Giles had lived a relatively calm and peaceful life in England till he turned 41. He had worked as head archivist of Bath University's Library and did an excellent job. He had been single and his sister, Spike's mother, always used to say that all their family's Scottish blood must have concentrated itself in Rupert since he was very sparse on spending money. 

Until Rupert Giles turned 41 he was known as a practically flawless character. Around his 41st birthday he was offered work at the History Faculty library, Oxford. And that's how his life changed. This is where he met Jenny Calendar. Jenny was an American guest lecturer on Slavonic and East European culture who had written her doctoral on Romani culture in modern day United States. Rupert Giles and Jenny Calendar shared a passion for books and research and became enamored with each other during their late nights of research in the musty stacks of the library. It didn't take them too long to act on it.

Rupert Giles' family didn't care much for the relationship. Rupert Giles hit a second youth and started spending the family fortune carelessly. The family didn't care for the fact he was wasting their money, flying off to all corners of the world all because "Jenny felt like researching." And then, Rupert did the worst thing of all, that one thing that made his family's cup overflow.  He sold the family mansion. The mansion had been built originally in the 1700s was about to fall anyway, but Spike's mother threw a fit, saying a brother who sold the last link to their past was no brother of hers. Rupert's aunt and Spike's great aunt, Midge heartily agreed.   Rupert calmly ignored them both, sold the mansion, married Jenny, and moved to St. Lucia leaving the rest of the remaining Giles descendants stuttering and blinking.

There had been quite a few interesting dinner conversations about Rupert in those days, Spike remembered. Despite protests, he had spent a few summers with his uncle in St. Lucia as a child, and vaguely remembered having a good time. Then, in 1998, everything changed when Jenny fell ill. She withered away so fast that it was unexpected when Spike got a call during his freshman year at UCLA and he was asked to come and attend Jenny's funeral in New York. Spike had seen Rupert only twice since the funeral and was sad to see that all the life that had been sparked in his uncle had withered away with Jenny's death.

Giles never returned to England, but stayed in the beautiful estate he and Jenny had made. It had been bought to house a large family, or even a B&B, but now Rupert lived it in alone.   The many empty rooms that had been filled with dreams while Jenny lived were now dusty and unused.  And pretty soon there would be a flock of young women and a production crew running around the estate. Spike was really wondering if Rupert knew what agreeing to this entailed. How would Giles, who had been pretty much alone for the past 4 years, endure this?

"Looks like we're about to get a preview," Spike mumbled to himself as he saw ten cars in the driveway of the main house.

Xander never noticed, as he was too busy gaping at his new impressive surroundings. They had passed iron gates and driven past a few seaside cabanas. The rest of the driveway up to the main house had palm trees on each side and a flora to go with making Xander wonder if Rupert Giles' gardening bills alone, were 5 figured.

When the main house came into view, Xander gaped.  It was a huge 3 story structure, but it didn't stick out as most walls were covered in vines. It was built in a light tinted stone and the windows had ivy colored shutters. The entrance had two columns supporting a small deck on the second floor. The left wing had stone columns going from ground to top and there was a patio on the second floor passing what looked like 6 bedrooms facing the frontyard of the house.

The jeep came to a halt outside the entrance and Spike snapped his fingers at his gaping friend to get him to move. A few years back, Spike would have just opened the door and waltzed right inside, but since he hadn't seen his uncle for that much the last couple of years, he decided against it and rang the doorbell. No one answered at the first ring so Spike pressed once more. When the door swung open and didn't reveal his glasses and tweed-wearing uncle, but instead the stoic face of Oz, the cameraman, Spike was surprised.

Oz just looked at Spike, then Xander, before opening the door wider and turning to head towards what Spike remembered being the living room. Sharing a shrug, they followed him.

The living room had a lowered floor and elevated ceiling emphasizing its size. There was a small bar in the far left corner of the same wall that had double glass doors separating living room from dining room.  The furnishings were expensive but not obviously so, and Spike was immediately thrown back to playing in the room as a child.  Not a thing was different except the dozen unfamiliar faces sitting stiffly in chairs before him.

Wesley raised his gaze to the newcomers and then switched off the television set.

"Ah, I see we are all here then. Except for Lorne Caritas, who I've been told will be arriving shortly. In the meantime why don't we all introduce ourselves," Wesley started.

"Where's Rupes?" Spike asked and everyone besides Xander gave him a puzzled glance. The first one to bring himself out of confusion was Wesley.

"Ah, you mean the owner, Mr. Giles. I was told you were related. He's your uncle? He muttered something about having work to do shortly after I arrived and locked himself in his study," Wesley explained.

Spike stood up and headed towards the wing of the house that faced North.  If nothing else had changed, then Rupert's study was supposed to be somewhere around there.

"Where do you think you're going? I-I said we were just about to introduce ourselves and you leave?  Just like that?" Wesley sputtered.  Xander just gave the host a look and Spike continued searching, unaffected.

"Now, the boy only wants to say hello to his uncle. Don't you, sugar," asked a man in a bright blue suit who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

_This bugger sure as hell didn't just call me sugar? _Spike scrunched his eyebrows

"Lorne! You're here! Yes, let Mr. Wordsworth say hello to his uncle, and if there's no objections, after that, we'll continue," Wesley said with a long suffering sigh.

Spike shook Lorne's hand and introduced himself before leaving. He made his way up the staircase in the main hall, turned right at the top and knocked at the door at the end of the hallway.

"Come in," sounded from the other side and Spike let himself in, and felt like he had been flashed across the ocean to England.  It looked like your typical old study with shelves upon shelves of books on every wall and an antique desk in the middle. The smell was what reminded Spike of his home though. It smelled like a blend of musty old and the undeniable fragrance of tea, probably Earl Grey or Darjeeling.

Behind the desk sat Rupert Giles, squinting over the top of his glasses at the intruder. Spike took in his uncle's appearance and cringed inside. So Rupert Giles had never been a very fancy dresser, from the tweed he wore when Spike first could remember to the casual wear he chose after he met Jenny. But now he was back to wearing tweed again. Only the jacket was dull and fringy and the shirt underneath was wrinkly. Giles looked like he didn't care at all.

"William?" Giles hesitantly asked. William grinned and nodded

"Actually, I'd prefer it if you called me Spike, since I'll probably will never hear the end of it if those wankers hear my full name," he said, smirking.

"Yes, I always said your mother weren't thinking when she gave you the name. Your father was very happy that you got saddled with one of those good, family – but my, whatever have you done to your hair? It looks disastrous," Giles pointed to the slicked back, bleached locks on his nephew's head.

"Oi, no fussing about the hair, all right. Got enough of that when I was home last and Aunt Midge saw it. I almost thought the old bird was about to sing her last song I tell you. And it just so happens that the hair is quite popular with the ladies," Spike said smiling mischievously. It earned a head shake and a snort of laughter from his uncle.

"But what about you? You look a little worse for wear yourself," Spike pointed to Giles' attire. "And why aren't you downstairs making sure they don't tear the place apart?" 

Giles sighed, removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

"If I had to spend one single more moment with that prat, Wesley Wyndham- Price I would have wrung his neck. When he heard I was from England he started going on and on about how vulgar the American language is and complaining how terrible the beer here is. No wonder Americans always think of us as snotty people. He's the exact type of person who gives us a faulty reputation."

"Oh come on Rupes, you've also said that the American language is vulgar and that the beer tastes terrible, the latter which I heartily agree with. You're just irritated about the company. Now go put on some decent clothes, and by that I mean those jeans and a t-shirt you used to wear, not the tweed you wore before that, and get your arse downstairs. I can tell you right now that you might regret it if you don't take part in this. I'll see you downstairs." Knowing he had done his job well, Spike turned to leave.  This might be more fun than he had expected.

"Spike?" Giles stopped him. Spike turned and Giles stood up and took a few steps towards him. For a moment he thought Giles was about to hug him, but instead he stared fixedly at a spot on the carpet.  "It's good to see you again, son."

"If I'm going to be all sentimental about this I'll say that it's nice to see you too. I'd hug you too if I wasn't afraid it'd give you heart attack," Spike teased. Giles reached automatically towards his glasses, then stopped at the smirk he received, and scratched his ear instead.

Spike gave in to the incredible urge to stick his tongue out, and walked out.

A short while later the entire crew of _Till Death Do Us Part_ and Rupert Giles were seated in the spacious living room of Giles' mansion.

"Wonderful!" Lorne clapped his hands together. "Now we can get started. The girls will be sleeping in the South wing of the building. Basically we need to tech up everything but the North wing which is Mr. Giles' living space and is off limits for the crew. And I do mean off limits, sugar buns, I don't wanna see your hineys anywhere near it," he specified, ignoring the stunned looks of the workers.  "The cleaners are just finishing up and when they are done I need an Oz, a Graham, a Ben, and an Iowa to install all the little gadgets.  Wait, scratch that.  A Riley Finn, who is from Iowa, and felt it necessary to include his heritage."

The light and sound crew filed out in the direction he pointed, and the rest continued to stare.

"Y'all need to be snappy about your jobs because the girls are all arriving later this afternoon. But you've already been given the specs so it should be easy as pie. Wesley, you go rehearse your sweet voice for the introductions, you don't need to see this," he finished, shooing Wesley out the door and grinning as he left.

"Now, the moment we've all been waiting for. A sneak preview of all the honeys that will be arriving shortly. Lots of eye candy." Lorne winked and rubbed his hands together before pulling out a manila folder that held all the girls that had passed the audition.

Spike rolled his eyes. Exactly what he needed, a preview of all the idiots he'd be around 18 hours a day starting tomorrow.   All the other guys, save Oz, had goofy grins plastered on their faces. Lorne put up the first transparent on the projector that shone on the white wall.

"Here we have Harmony Kendall" There were cat calls as a picture of a blonde that had a dangerously low cleavage on a skintight pink dress was shown.

Spike groaned as he looked at the picture. Sure she was good-looking but the girl looked as the epitome and affirmation of what he thought this project would be all about. All tits and shallow minds.

"And I just bet this girl made the draft because of her excellent debating qualities," Spike said smiling saccharine at Lorne

Lorne snickered, "Well, little Harmony's greatest assets may lie other places then between her ears, and we'll just leave it at that for now. Hamony's 24, from California and the daughter of a very wealthy associate of mine. Next we have Darla Jones. Also living in California. She's 27, originally from Virginia."

Yet another saucy blonde showed up showing off more than a little skin showed up on the projector. Most of the boys were still mopping the floor with their tongues.

"Tell me Lorne, if they're all blonde and all tits, why don't we skip the peep show and continue to the actual work we need to do," Spike interrupted.

"What's the matter Spike? Ladies don't do it for you? Would it make you feel better if we put up a fairy?" Graham snickered at Spike while Andrew the visual editor, who could only be described as a boy, got a hopeful expression on his face.

Spike clenched his jaw and fists before replying.

"Unlike the lot of you I like a little substance to my women. And I mean here" he pointed to his temple, "not here" he pointed to his chest. "Been there, shagged that, so to speak. And there is only so much brainless babble a man can take"

Andrew sighed disappointed, while Graham just returned his gaze to the screen.

"Next up we have Kendra Zabuto, 24 from Tampa, Florida. She's a marine biologist, spent two years researching sharks with her father in South Africa and now works at Sea World," Lorne interrupted, flashing the next picture up.

_Marine biologist. Here to tell the world to save bloody Shamu, no doubt,_ Spike thought, deciding to keep the commentary to himself.

"And here we have Lydia Conway, 27. Moved from England to attend school here and stayed" Another woman that didn't fit Spike's profile of attendees appeared. This one looked like a professional of some sort. Long dark blonde hair tied tightly in a ponytail, wearing glasses and a suit.

"Next up we have Anya…" Lorne paused to make sure he got the entire name, "Anya Natasha Asya Jenkins. A real spitfire. She's 26, living in LA, she wouldn't tell us where she was originally from but was more than willing to share her opinions on orgasms and money," Lorne chuckled, remembering little Miss Forthright. 

            "You're not quoting, are you?" Xander sqeaked.

            "Indeed I am," grinned Lorne.  "You'll have your hands full with Miss. Jenkins."

"And here we have Willow Rosenberg, 25. Sweet as sugar this redhead is. She works for the LA times," Lorne said giving Spike a poignant look.  "Smart girl, from what I can tell."

"Next we have one Buffy Anne Summers, 25 working as an Aikido and Yoga instructor. She was definitely my favorite among the California girls. Healthy, clever, down to earth _and_ pretty. If I was going to place a bet on who our bachelor will favor it would be this one or maybe one New York native coming up soon," Lorne finished.

The men were all back to drooling again and Spike was staring at the girl intently. She was definitely the prettiest one he'd seen of them until now. And her green eyes sparkled. If it weren't for the fact that the rest of her appearance; classic California tan, blonde hair, beautiful lips and… _Stop it you ninny!_ If it weren't for the fact that the rest of her appeared to be a classic airhead, Spike would have even gone as far as to say that he liked this girl.

"The final one from LA is Lilah Morgan, 27. Works for a law firm in LA called Wolfram and Hart. She has pointy elbows, I think she'll go a long way too," Lorne said. He pondered for a moment where he'd heard the name of the law firm before, but let it slip as he continued.

"Moving along to Minnesota we have Amy Madison, 25. This girl's got quite the track record of attending beauty pageants. No winning as far as I could tell though,"

            "I can see why," grinned a guy at the door.

            "Anything you need, sugar?  Or do you just wanna stare at all these lovely pictures with us?"

            "I'm Jake," the man said, plopping down in a nearby chair and saluting the room.

"Anyway, here's one that flew in from Cicely, Alaska to attend the Minnesota auditions.  Her name's Winifred Burkle. Such a sweet, shy little girl. The bigger wolfs will probably gobble her all up," Lorne tsk-ed 

"Next up we have Faith Jackson, 25 of Detroit. Not much background on this one but she told us she's lived in Detroit all her life and wants out to fly like a free bird," Lorne said. "There were a few swears mixed in with the birds, but we won't mention that."

The drooling continued as the men eyed the luscious brunette. She had sex-appeal, that was for sure.

"Moving to the south again we have Tara Maclay, 25 from Louisiana, just the outskirts of New Orleans.  Sweetest little thing, shy, but adorable."

This one he might like, Spike decided.  All natural, this girl was, a full green skirt and fuzzy sweater, with no makeup.

Meanwhile, Lorne was still talking.

"From New York, New York," Lorne couldn't resist doing a little Sinatra impersonation, but at the slightly freaked out audience he sighed and continued. "First off from New York we have Kennedy Fields, at 24" He left the image of the brunette on the overhead for a few seconds before switching to another brunette." And this my friends is the final one, Cordelia Chase, 25, the one I mentioned earlier. She's got the looks and the qualities I think to make it very far. But they're all dolls I tell ya."

"Finally, not that anyone of you is probably interested, we have our bachelor. Angel Kelly, 29 and a lawyer from New York. Remember to not tell the girls anything when they arrive since we do want to have a surprise element on tape when they first meet him," Lorne explained.

Spike couldn't help but guffaw. "Wouldn't dream of spoiling the surprise element for all the Barbies before they meet Ken, now would we?" Lorne gave Spike a slightly reprimanding look before switching off the projector

 "You all know what to do. Now let's get busy."

Sighing, everyone gathered themselves up, and set to work.  They had a television show to prepare for.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Thank you all so much for your comments!  They really mean a lot to us, so please take that extra minute to leave a word or two.  Hope you enjoy this chapter J  On a side note, I'm (Shippy) nominated at the Spuffy Awards for my fics Blocking Out The Sun and Promise.  If you liked them, go vote!  There's tons of great authors nominated.

The smell was the first thing she noticed when she stepped off the plane.  Salty ocean water smell mixed in with smoke from nearby barbeques, all swirling around in the gentle breeze.  

If nothing else, St. Lucia smelled nice.

            "Like this, is where we're staying?  It's like a total dump!" Harmony Kendall said, bending down to clean the sand off her Prada shoes.  "Look at this wind!  It's completely messing up my hair."

            "It's gonna get worse than this, honey.  We're still in the airport," a brunette that had introduced herself as Faith, grinned, purposely kicking more sand over as she walked past, hefting her bags over her shoulder.

            "Yeah Buffy, I forgot.  How's it feel to be on foreign soil?"

            "Don't know yet.  The foreign tile feels the same though."

She had expected her first plane ride to be much different.  Some childish part of her still hoped it'd feel like flying, but all she got was a horrible sinking feeling when the plane lifted off ground.  Much more exciting was finally getting a stamp in her passport.

            "Where're the guys that were supposed to meet us," Anya huffed.  "This is wasting valuable time that could be spend inducing the bachelor to orgasms."

            "Yeah, I wonder about that," Faith said, frowning.  "What's the dude gonna be like, anyway?  Money's well and good, but a guy's gotta have something in the looks department too."

            "It'd b-be nice if he was smart too," spoke up Tara, setting her bags down beside the group. 

            "Yes, brains are quite necessary," agreed Anya.  "He'd need those to earn the money.  And I understand the brain is necessary to perform well in sexual intercourse."

            "We should get you a bag of gold and a vibrator, girl, that's all you need," Faith said.

            "Certainly not," Anya replied primly, sticking her tongue out.  "The batteries would run out."

They laughed uncertainly, each unsure of how serious Anya was being.  At that moment, a black limo pulled up to the group and stopped.

            "You think that's them?" Willow whispered.

Anya shrugged, straightened her posture, and continued to watch intently.  A man dressed in a suit hopped out, brushed himself off, and opened the passengers door, helping out the woman within.  

            "We have arrived, Ms. Chase," he said, stepping back respectfully as she stood up.

            "I'd like my bags delivered to the place we're staying please.  That'll be all."

            "Have a good day, miss."

With that, he got back in and drove away, leaving the woman standing in front of them, all eyes on her.

            "Who do you think she is?" Buffy whispered.

            "Shh…" Anya said, still staring hard at the woman, head cocked.

Harmony hurried forward, sinking at once into some awkward type of curtsey.

            "Wow…I can't tell you what an honor it is to meet you!  And like, you're in the competition too!  How cool is that.  I'm Harmony."

            "Cordelia Chase," the woman said.  "And there's really no competition, is there?  Not when I'm going to win."

            "Oh….r-right," Harmony stuttered, stepping back and launching into a furious whispered conversation with those surrounding her.

            "Will they be here soon," Cordelia asked, sounding bored.  "I'm getting sand in my manicure."

            "Cordelia Chase," Anya murmured.  "Chase…Chase…where have I heard that name?"

            "You know her?" Willow asked, sounding surprised.

            "No, it's just – ooh look, they're here!"

All heads turned as a black jeep hurtled into the parking space at breakneck speed and two men jumped out, looking around.

            "We're here!" someone called from the back.

            "Oh good," one of them panted as he ran up.  "So many exits here, we thought we got the wrong place."

            "Actually, it was you that thought we were in the wrong place," the other corrected, grinning.  "I'm Spike and he's Xander.  We're 'ere to take you to the house."

            "Wow…so you're like, British?" Harmony asked, awed.

Spike rolled his eyes, sighing.  Tight dress, blond, dumb as a log.  Must be Harmony.

            "'ow'd you guess, luv?" he asked, putting on his most charming smile.

            "Well, the accent," she giggled.  "Duh!"

He flashed her another smile before turning away and addressing the group.

            "Right, we're supposed to divide you girls up now.  Some go with me, some with Xander, and some with Oz.  Hey, where is Oz, anyway?"

            "Back in the car," Xander supplied.

  
Spike nodded, digging out a notepad from his pocket.

            "This is Oz's group – Kendra, Lydia, Willow, Lilah, Amy.  Xander's is Anya,  Willow, Cordelia, and Kennedy.  Mine is Tara, Faith, Fred, Harmony, and Puffy."  He stared at the list thoughtfully for a second, before frowning.  "Which one of you is Puffy?"

            "I'm not fat!  Do you think I'm fat?" Harmony cried, stepping back.

Spike gritted his teeth and restrained himself from ripping the girl's head off.

            "No opinion, pet.  It says "Puffy" on my list.  'opefully it's a misspelling.  Which one of you girls 'aven't been called yet?"

            "I haven't," Buffy spoke up, stepping forward.

She met his eyes – _oohh, pretty blue, nice face – _and he gave her a slow smile.

            "Now, what's your name, luv?"

            "I'm Buffy."

He grinned, scratching the back of his neck.

            "Good one, pet.  But really, what's your name?"

            "Buffy," she repeated, glaring at him.  _Ugliest eyes I've ever seen._

              
            "You're telling me your mother actually named you Buffy?" he asked, laughing.

            "Whereas Spike gives off that wonderful sense of elegance?" she shot back.

            "Oi!  It's unique."

            "So is Buffy!  It's very…unique-y," she told him, stepping closer.

            "S'that even a word?" he demanded, moving forward as well.

            "It's a good word!  I like that word!"

            "You would!"

Xander followed the exchange with his eyes, watching as the two blonds glared at each other, face to face.

            "Is this normal for her?" Tara whispered.

            "Nuh-uh," Willow said, shaking her head as she followed the argument.  "She's never acted like this before She usually more with the, you know, using real words and a little bit less with the defensive attitude when she first meets someone."

            "Isn't it obvious?  They are both attracted to each other, and seeing as how they're both stubborn pigheads, they're trying to cover up said attraction with fighting, which is quite silly, because they're wasting valuable time in which they could have been having orgasms," Anya said, all in one breath as she frowned.

Buffy and Spike stopped talking at once, took in how close they were standing, and hastily moved apart.  Xander stared at Anya as if he'd never seen a woman before.

            "Right," he squeaked, and cleared his throat, looking mortified.  "Spike's group get in the jeep, and Oz's and mine get the truck he's bringing.  We'll meet up at the house and you'll all see your rooms and all that fun stuff."

Spike coughed, before raising his arms to signal his group.  

            "Let's get going then," he muttered, leading the way to the jeep.

Buffy hung back, pretending to tie her shoelace.

            "Oh my god," she murmured, her face bright red.  "I can't believe I did that.  That – that jerk!  I can't believe he did that.  I'm going to kill him!"

            "You probably shouldn't, you know," Tara told her, smiling and pulling her over to the car.  "Jail, and all that stuff."

Harmony jumped in the front with Spike, and the rest of them piled into the back, squashed together.  Tara noticed that Buffy was very pointedly focusing her red face on her knees, and Spike was just as pointedly not looking at her in his mirror.  She also saw Harmony inching forward on her seat and throwing out her chest.  This was going to be an interesting trip.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight 

All packed out and exhausted, Buffy flopped down on the bed and exhaled, blowing a wayward strand of hair out of her face. Tara, her new roommate, gave her a small smile. She was still neatly folding her clothes away, whereas Buffy had just stuffed most of her things inside of drawers, thinking she could do it better when she was re-energized. 

The room itself was medium sized, with comfortable though not overly fancy furniture.  There were two beds, one for Tara, one for Buffy, both overfilled with down pillows.  There were even chocolate mints on the bedside tables.  

"Was it just me or was that whole welcoming thing really…" Buffy hesitated

"Intense?" Tara offered

"Yeah, that's it in a word."

Tara gave a nod in response and they both smiled. They had arrived at Giles' estate and hadn't even have time to be properly amazed by it, before cameras had showed up in their faces. She winced inwardly when she thought about it showing up on television, remembering the fish face she was sporting when the first shot was taken.  Not only that, but spending the day traveling didn't exactly work magic on anyone's looks. Unless their names were Cordelia Chase, Harmony Kendall or Anya Jenkins and they had an arsenal of rescue makeup ready to apply in their purses. 

It hadn't hit Buffy full force until their arrival what this thing really would be about. No privacy. At least she got lucky in the roommate department and got Tara. Even though the girl was a complete stranger, she seemed to have that kind of calm, nice, sweet, privacy respecting and appreciating, quality to her. Good things.

"Don't you think _Spike_ should have had the decency to at least give us a little warning?" Buffy scoffed, letting her distaste for the guy shine through with every word.

"Maybe he didn't know," said Tara.

"Did you see his face? He was... he was smirking. No, no he pulled up his lips into a sneer.  He was enjoying our misery." Buffy nodded, satisfied with her description, and not listening to a word Tara said.

_What was it my mother used to say… something about a feather turning into five hens?_ Tara thought, amused by Buffy's overdone exaggeration.

"And his eyes, did you see the way they twinkled?" It was meant to sound just as disgusted as her previous statement, but came out a little bit different so Buffy had to amend quickly. "Bad! Bad twinkling. Bad twinkling blue eyes"

"They were blue? I didn't notice. But-but you did, so I guess they are." Of course Tara knew they were blue. Her breath had hitched at the intensity when she saw them, but she wanted to tease Buffy a little bit.

***

A floor down and across the hall Graham and Riley were doing sound checks for all the rooms.

"They're talking about a guy," Graham grinned at Riley when they reached Buffy and Tara's room. "Hey, Ben. Could you give us a visual on room five?" Ben nodded and two seconds later a four framed shot showed up on the monitor showing of Buffy and Tara's room from different angles.

Ben bit his lip. "Hey guys. Look I know the girls are aware their rooms are being monitored, but don't you think it's a little bit unethical to eavesdrop, when it's not related to the production?"

"This whole thing is ethical in a way that's not, but that's pushing it a bit too much," Oz put in, eyes remaining fixed on his own monitors as he checked that all the cameras were working.

Immediately, all heads in the room turned to Oz.  It was the first time most had heard him say more than 3 words at a time.  Even Xander and Spike, who were reading through timetables and discussing quietly how to fit everything in, shot their heads up when they heard the usually stoic red-haired guy, pipe up.  

"What's going on?" Xander asked, as he saw the two girls on the monitor, paying attention to the other men for the first time.

"Seems the little hot blonde's having issues with our peroxide CP," Graham snickered. 

Spike rolled his eyes. Figured really, was just like her to get pissed the second something she didn't agree with was said. Such a shame too, a pretty face and wrapper, but unfortunately little to desire personality wise. _Unque-y_, he remembered. Now, what kind of person would butcher the English language like that? The kind he would be surrounded by for the coming weeks. Great.

"Get that off the screen and get back to work," Xander said, narrowing his eyes as Graham sneered.  "We're on a fixed schedule here.  If you don't want to do the work, I suggest you leave."

He waited until they nodded before turning away, pleased with himself. "Ready to take the girls out?" he asked Spike and Oz.. With a nod, they left.

The groups were the same as when they'd picked up the girls at the airport, so Spike was yet again in charge of gathering up Tara, Faith, Fred, Harmony, and Buffy.  Having sent Faith, Fred, and Harmony to the car, he scratched his neck and knocked on Buffy and Tara's room.

"Oh, it's you," Buffy said as she opened the door, immediately crossing her arms over her chest. Spike looked down at her foot expecting it to be tapping. He smirked.

"Why so hostile, pet? What bug crawled up your skirt?"

"You did," Buffy said matter-of-factly and Spike's smirk went just a little bit wider, from her little Freudian slip.  He didn't even think she'd noticed until her eyes opened wide and a flush covered her face as she ducked away. Flustered and refusing to give Spike the satisfaction of seeing her so, Buffy turned around and retreated into her suite, leaving Spike grinning behind her.  The girl actually looked even more adorable than usual with that coloring. 

Tara smiled at the interaction and quickly hid it as Buffy shot a glare in her direction.

"Hey Spike."

"'Ello love," Spike drawled, while Buffy made a gagging sound. Tara ducked her head. "So you ladies ready for a small tour of the island?" Spike asked.

Buffy shrugged and Tara nodded and they all left for the jeep. With Xander, Oz, and the rest of the girls behind them, Spike started the engine, and started on the ten minute drive to the parking lot of the beginning of a particularly popular hiking route that led up a long-time dormant volcano.

They all got out of the cars and the girls started their slow climb up the path, laughing amongt themselves as they enjoyed the view. The hillside was truly a magnificent view, as the rich soil had given it a very varied and exotic Flora. Flowers in all colors, shapes and sizes could be seen clustered all over, and the clouds made fuzzy shapes in the sky. 

Spike, Xander and stayed behind the group of girls talking business.

"Right, when we get back the camera crew will be waiting again and the bachelor will be in place and cue the surprise of the girls right?" Xander asked.

"So goes the plan," Oz assured him.

"Good, good."

"Think we'll manage to get the chits to head in one at a time without raising suspicion?" Spike asked, restlessly picking at the cigarette pack he had stashed in his pocket.

"I think we better not. Lorne was pretty specific when he said that he wanted genuine surprise caught on tape."

"We'll wing it," Oz said "Pick you up in two hours?" Spike and Xander nodded and Oz got back in the car.  He still had setting up to do before the girls and bachelor arrived.

Spike and Xander caught up with the girls who were all staring at a particularly mesmerizing flower.  It's petals were a pale, clear blue at the base going gradient to the tips where it was white. Cordelia stretched out her hand to pluck it out of the ground.

"Wouldn't touch that," Spike said, halted her movements. "It's poisonous," he added, raising his arms up in surrender as Cordelia turned on him.

"It's a Kalmia Cerulean, otherwise known as Blue Laurel. Poisonous, yes, but only if digested" Lydia explained "If the dosage is potent enough you'll first break into a fever, dehydrate and then your kidneys will start shutting down and the a result may be fatal. Large doses will cause heart failure while ironically enough, small doses will prevent heart attacks" 

A collected shiver ran through the group as that interesting bit of knowledge was given to them.  Something so beautiful, so deceptively dangerous.

The group started moving along again, a few of the girls staying behind to look at the flower just a little bit longer.  Intrigued by Lydia's knowledge, Willow followed her, curious to learn more about the girl. There was something familiar about her face, she was sure she'd seen it before…maybe getting a closer look would jog her memory.

Spike walked side-by-side with Tara and Buffy as they slowly went up the path, stopping every once in a while to look at the sights.  He wondered again what a nice girl like Tara was doing in this circus, and resolved to find out.  Before he could ask, Buffy interrupted.

"Why didn't you warn us earlier that we would be attacked by a camera crew the minute we arrived?"

"And what? Miss that flushed, adorable face of yours?"

Buffy smiled. _He said adorable. But bad, he's bad. I distinctly remember a smirk. Stupid smirk._ Haughty nose in air she trotted away to catch up with Anya.

A little while later they had reached the top of the mountain, and upon looking down, were met with a spectacular view.  It was the very picture of fertility. Green grass stretched along, full of colorful patches where clusters of flowers sat, filing the air with their aroma.  Palm tree jungles made a path all the way to the horizon, and birds sang their song as they too enjoyed the beautiful clearing.

In the center of the clearing was the pit of what had once been the crater of the volcano. Even though the volcano was dead, it still looked dire enough, since it was deep and a little slip might send you tumbling down a long way. Xander opened his backpack and handed out water bottles, wrapped sandwiches and fruit to everyone. They all seated themselves in groups and had a little impromptu picnic at the top of the volcano.

Buffy could see Spike talking and laughing with Tara and quelled a little burst of jealousy.  So the jerk could be civil, just not to her.  What was the matter with her?  She'd been polite enough to him before he'd started with the 'muffy' nonsense.

Tara looked over to where Buffy was seated a stone toss away and sighed.  The blond looked sullen and upset, and if she didn't know any better, Tara would say Buffy had a thing for Spike.  The same Spike who was now talking to her.

"So, just what made a sweet girl like yourself enter this parody of a game? I really can't picture you getting all pointy elbows about this junk, you seem sort of shy." Spike followed her gaze to Buffy. "Now that girl on the other hand, now she's made for this isn't she, just like that Melody, Cordelia and Lilah, all up on their high horses with little or nothing to show for it. And what kind of a name is Buffy anyway?"

Tara giggled. "Her name's Harmony, not Melody and about Buffy I think you might have gotten the wrong impression, or maybe not. I don't really know her myself but maybe you could give her a break. You just got off on the wrong foot. In fact, a little less prejudice and putting people into boxes, might be good all around. And you seem to have a very low opinion of all this and that makes me wonder why _you're_ working with it?" Tara asked, sidestepping his question, then blushed as she realized how bold she was being.  

"Not putting annoying people in boxes," Spike corrected, smiling. "Cause see, if I did, most of these bints would be locked up, and you or Red over there would have a free path to the guy.  And as for why I'm here, gotta earn a living some way. Lorne liked some of the work me and Xander did, and the perfect place to film was an added bonus.  'S not that bad, really.  Get to spend the summer looking at pretty girls in paradise, spend a little more time with family and friend, boss around a bunch of twerps and get paid too.  Not bad at all."

Shaking her head ruefully, Tara stood, stretching her sore muscles. Waving for Spike to follow her, she made her way to where Buffy and a few girls were standing, looking at the sunset.  It was unlike any they'd ever seen, with beautiful tints of red and gold flooding the sky.  

"Nice, huh?" Willow asked her friend. Buffy could only nod.

They all watched as the sun disappeared little by little into the ocean at the end of the horizon. It wasn't only a beautiful view, but it also marked the end of the first day on the island for the girls. 

"I think it's time we head down. Oz, should be here in ten minutes" With that the group dispersed and slowly started to head to the path. Buffy stood still, watching as the last golden rays disappeared and the sun was no longer visible the sky.

" Buffy, you coming?" Spike called, turning back when he saw she wasn't following.

"Yeah," Buffy smiled, amused at a little recollection. A line of poetry fluttered through her mind, and she found it oddly fitting.  "What though the radiance which was once so bright. Be not forever taken from my sight," she whispered, barely audible, but Spike heard, 

"Wordsworth… You read poetry?"

"You sound surprised," Buffy let out a short giggle. "Hate to disappoint your impression of me. But yeah, I like Wordsworth. Or poetry in general I guess. Kinda new to it though. I just took part time classes the last fall."

"I'd lie if I said I wasn't surprised at all," Spike said puzzled. _Would you look at that? The girl's got layers after all_. Then he chuckled as he realized that Buffy didn't know his last name or his relation to Wordsworth.

Buffy shrugged in response. Before they caught up with the rest of the gang, Spike grabbed her arm, halting her.

"Oh and I thought you'd like a little warning this time. When we get back, the camera crew will be on you again and there'll be another little surprise," he put a finger to his lips, telling her to keep it a secret and winked.  "But do me a favor, luv, and act like it's all new to you, or I'll get in trouble."

He sauntered off, feeling satisfied that he'd been… nice to her, while Buffy was left puzzled as to why he had warned her. It had grown even darker and around her the night came to life with crickets and sounds she'd never heard before that only belonged to the night. She shivered at the unfamiliarity and maybe anxiety, which was growing in her belly. The setting was so strange to her, and that along with something she really couldn't put her finger on, was making her nerves edgy.

***

By the time the jeep and van arrived in the driveway back at the house the darkness had settled completely. Even at night the place looked amazing. Lanterns dimly lit the outside walls of the main house and the fountain in the center of the front yard was running in full force with lights illuminating it.

The girls got out of the cars and went up the front steps to the pillared entrance chatting excitedly about the next day and guessing that's when they'd get to meet the bachelor. Xander, Spike stayed behind in order to not get into the shot, and Oz went around the back to his position of operating the living room cameras.  

As disheveled girls burst into the hallway, cameras and reporters were waiting for them. And so was Wesley who looked styled up, wearing  a pale blue shirt with the top buttons undone and black slacks.

"Ladies, if you'd please enter the living room we have a little surprise in store," he spoke, gesturing to the door. The girls looked at each other, eyes wide and whispering among themselves. They entered the living room and the whispers grew in excitement as they saw a tall, dark and broad shouldered man turned with his back against them, facing the lit garden outside.

Once the girls were all inside, the man turned slowly offering them a small crooked smile and the glint of his eye. A collective inhale could be heard and a lot of mouths went dry. Buffy thought she heard Faith mutter, "Gimme some of that!"

He was undeniably handsome. No one could deny that. A sort of classic handsome, with looks that resembled idolized silver screen actors from half a century ago. He gave them all a look, lingering a little more at some of the girls. The cameras were completely forgotten by all.

"Ladies, I'd like you all to meet Angel Kelly, your honorable bachelor" Wesley introduced and many of the faces lit up, happy that this was in fact their bachelor. One by one they started greeting him.

After Angel had used his charm, greeting them all with a silky voice, Wesley spoke up again.

"Angel will live in one of the Cabanas and under no circumstances will any of you meet him, unless it has been arranged. That's why the cabanas and that particular part of the private beach will be off limits during the remainder of the competition," Wesley said, looked at all the girls and making sure he had their attention.

"As for the arranging, Angel, may visit you all here at his own disposal, as long as he stays out of your private quarters and there will also be arranged dates. In the beginning these will be group dates and the very first one will be tomorrow. The lucky few of you chosen first will get a letter bright and early tomorrow morning. That will be all for now, so please say good night to Angel." Wesley finished, feeling like a kindergarden teacher as the girls obliged and Angel retreated.

Charged chattering could be heard as they all headed back to their rooms, smiling and laughing, and imagining the next day.

In Buffy and Tara's room, Buffy waited for her turn to use the bathroom to change into her pajamas.   Neither of them felt like changing in the room since it was monitored, but the bathroom wasn't. They'd been told that they did have say in what got aired from their rooms on screen, but they didn't find any comfort in that, knowing that it was recorded anyway.

Tara collapsed on her bed with a thump as soon as she exited the bathroom, and a similar noise was heard on the other end a few minutes later, as Buffy mimicked her.  Soon, the wing was completely silent and the only sounds that could be heard were the squeaky chirping of the seagulls, and the crash of the tide as it hit the shore.

The sounds lulled everyone to a near sleep, until a shrill scream brought them back to reality.


	9. Chapter 9

_Authors Note: Very sorry about the delay in getting this out, but it's been a busy couple of weeks.  Again, the French is probably not completely right, so sorry about that too.  What she's saying is basically go away, never come back, and uh-oh, he's got a girlfriend now, soon they'll breed and make more American brats (never mind that she hasn't picked up on the fact that Spike ISN'T American). That being said, hope you enjoy, and hope you review._ Chapter Nine 

Startled, Buffy sat up, unsure for a second of why she was awake.  There had been a noise, but now she wasn't sure if it had been in her dream, or in the hall, or…

There it was again, no mistaking it.  Someone screaming.  

Swearing as she got tangled in the covers, Buffy jumped out of bed, feeling the wall beside her for the light switch.  The little nub was avoiding her, and she could hear Tara's harsh breaths across the room as she too looked for a lamp.  

            "Got it," Tara breathed, and the room was suddenly bathed in light.  "What was that?"

Shaking her head, Buffy wrenched the door open, hoping for some clue.  All down the hallway, heads were poking out of doors, looking around curiously.  

            "Where'd it come from?"

            "Oh my god, like that was totally scary!"

            "What's going on?"

Wesley came rushing past them, bathrobe swirling and hair sticking out in all directions.  Spike and Xander came after, both shirtless, and a guy Buffy vaguely recognized as the janitor followed.  

            "Which one of you made that noise?" Wesley asked furiously.  "Really, I understand that you're excited, but pulling pranks like that is completely unacceptable, and I want the person responsible to stand up now and take charge for their actions."

            "Mr. Wesley, none of us did it," Willow said earnestly, earning nods from the others.  

Frowning, Buffy looked around.  There was someone outside every door except…

            "It's Lilah's room," she said, and cleared her throat when nobody paid any attention.  "I think it's coming from Lilah's room," she repeated, gesturing at the door.  

For a second no one moved, then Spike swore and walked quickly over to the door.  At a gesture from Wesley he kicked it open, and the whole corridor poured inside.

Harmony screamed and her hand flew to cover her mouth.

            "Nobody move," the janitor said sharply, slowly moving towards the bed where the large snake was coiled.  

            "Jake, mate, you sure you –"

            "Was a park ranger a few years before, leave it to me." 

Slowly, carefully, he made eye contact with the snake before grabbing it under the head in one swift motion.  It hissed and the jaws opened wide, causing Lilah to gasp as it turned it's head towards her.

            "Go now," Jake said, and she pushed off the bed with a whimper, sinking down onto the floor at Tara's feet.

Buffy pulled her hand, attempting to get her to move back, but Tara refused to move, body frozen as she stared at the snake.

            "Tara?  What's wrong?"  
  


            "I-I don't like snakes very much," she said, voice cracking.  

            "Oh…well, it seems that Jake knows what he's doing, right?  It might not even be a dangerous snake.  Just a really, really big garden one."

            "It's a poisonous viper," Tara said flatly.

She looked ready to collapse and Buffy felt the first twinges of panic as well.  What was a snake doing in one of the rooms?  She'd heard of trick mirrors and hidden cameras added for theatrical value, but a poisonous snake was a little extreme.  And plus, Wesley had seemed as surprised as any of them, and so had Spike and Xander, and what were they doing here in the middle of the night anyway?  She knew they didn't live in the mansion, Wesley had mentioned that they'd rented an apartment.

            "Let's get you some air," she muttered, leading Tara out the nearest door and helping her lean against a tree.  

She watched as Tara took several sharp breathes before calming down enough to slide down and sit against the trunk.  

            "S-Sorry about-t that," she said softly.  "I don't like snakes very much."

            "But you grew up in Louisiana," Buffy said, confused.  "Isn't that like, hometown of the creepy crawlies?"

Not answering, Tara devoted her attention to the bits of grass she was swirling around her fingers.  Deciding not to prompt, Buffy relaxed against the tree as well, listening to the sounds all around them.

            "It's really dark," Tara commented a few minutes later.  "We better get inside."

Restlessly, Buffy jumped to her feet.

            "You go ahead.  I'm too awake for some reason, gonna go take a walk."

            "Are you sure?  It's the middle of the night, too creepy to be out."

            "I love being outside at night," Buffy called as she steadily jogged away.  "Don't worry, I usually run before sleeping, and I've got good night vision."

Shrugging, Tara clumsily made her way back to the door, only to run into Spike and Jake.

            "You all right?" Jake asked, seeing the trails down her cheeks.

            "No.  I m-mean, yes, I'm fine, thank you.  Is the snake gone?"

            "Yeah pet, 's been taken care of.  Now I may be wrong, but didn' I see you come out here with someone else?"

            "Yeah, Buffy.  She went for a walk though."

            "A walk?  It's the bloody middle of the night, what's she goin' for a walk for?  'Specially after the biter, there might be more of them out here."

The girl let out a gasp and Spike cursed himself for scaring her more.

            "Sorry pet, didn't mean that.  She shouldn't be out here by herself, is all, gonna go look for her.  Could you go with Jake?  He can get you hot chocolate, works wonders, it does."

            "That's who all the cocoa belonged to!" Jake exclaimed, slapping his stomach.  "The kitchen smelled like a chocolate factory this morning, and you're only staying a few days. I'm worried for you man, someday you'll stock up on too much and your teeth will rot from the smell."

            "Dunno what you're talkin' about," Spike grumbled as he made his way up the path to look for the missing girl.

            "Sure you don't," Jake stated with satisfaction, before holding his hand out to Tara.  "Wanna go see if he's right?  Maybe hot chocolate really is the cure to all evils.  There's this neat little hallway I discovered yesterday, we could make some and drink it there.  

            "That would be great," she said, shyly placing her hand in his.

                                                            */*/*/*/*/*/*

            "Buffy?  Here Puffy puffy puffy…here worst name in the world girl…"

He stopped, listening for sound, before sighing in frustration.

            "Okay, I'm sorry.  Buffy's a bloody brilliant name, now would you just come out?"

Getting no answer, he cursed, kicking the nearest tree.  The girl either swung on branches or ran in the Olympics, because she sure as hell wasn't here.  

"Now if I were a stupid, spoiled brat looking to bag a rich husband, where would I be…"

A branch cracked somewhere to his left.

            "Buffy?"

There was no answer, only strange shuffling in the dry leaves behind some bushes.  Spike was really starting to wish he had thought to bring a flashlight.

            "Summers?" he said, quieter this time, looking in all directions for her.  

Something was in the clearing with him, that he was positive of.  Taking a deep breath, he slowly turned, then quickly jumped through the shrubbery, fully prepared to attack.  He collided with something soft, and they both tumbled, screaming to the ground.  His attacker forced him down with his face pressed against the dirt surprisingly fast, and he gasped in pain as a knee descended sharply onto a sensitive pressure point.  A bare knee, attached to an equally bare thigh, which was covered by thin pajamas.

            "Bloody hell!  Buffy, is that you?"

The attacker lessened the pressure of the knee, and Spike saw blond hair swimming above his hair.

            "Spike?"

            "Yeah pet, it's me."

            "Oh."

            "Yeah, oh.  That was some impressive moves," he commented, squirming around until he was on his back, looking up at her.

            "I teach aikido and martial arts," she replied.

            "The girl has layers!" he announced, grining up at her.  

            "And the stubborn bleached idiot is still an asshole," she shot right back.

            "I'm wounded pet, really," he assured.  "Aikido huh?  Used to do that when I was a kid, but switched to karate.  More effective."

            "More effective!" she screeched, glaring at him.  "Aikido is one of the most approved systems of martial arts.  It's a brilliant method, lets you use the attackers energy against them."

            "Oh please," he scoffed.  "Like you really believe that nonsense?"

            "It's proved to me daily!" she exclaimed, leaning down to stare him in the eye.

            "Give me one good example," he challenged, rising up as well.

            "Look at who's got who on the ground," she said sweetly.

He stared at their current position for a moment, mouth wide, before sweeping his legs under her and pressing her onto the grass.

            "Look at who's on the ground now," he countered.

            "I could get you off in a second."

"That remains to be seen, darlin', but the point remains that you're still under me."

Spike watched as her pretty face flushed bright red, and smiled in satisfaction.  

"You…pervert!  I could jerk you off easily!  I m-mean, I could make you get up easily!"

            "Couldn't."

"Could."

"Couldn't."

"Could."  She stuck her tongue out at him.  "Could could could."

"Bloody hell, I need a smoke."

            "What?"

He shifted on top of her, hand delving into his pocket, and wedging his thigh in between hers.  Buffy's eyes widened and she started to squirm, only increasing the pressure.

            "Lost my bloody cigs," he lamented, turning the pocket inside out.

He stared down at her red face, and the closeness of their position finally registered.    She was wiggling under him, rubbing up against a place she really shouldn't have been rubbing up against.  And it felt good.

Buffy started when he jumped away from her as if burned.  She took the hand he offered, blushing, and stood up as well.  He uncomfortably shifted his weight, and she caught his eye for the first time.  Spike was embarrassed.

The mere thought sent her into giggling, and she clutched her sides as he glared at her, before the corners of his mouth lifted as well and he grabbed her arm, leading her back up the path.

            "Where are we going?"  
  


            "The way I see it, pet, 's all your fault that I'm out here in the first place, which means it's your fault that I lost 'm ciggs.  So you're coming with me to get them."

            "And where are we going to get them?" she huffed, trying to keep up.  "And what are you doing here anyway?  Don't you and Xander have an apartment?"

He nodded, grinning when he located the car keys in his jacket.

            "Yeah, we do.  Worked late tonight though, and Wes asked us to stay so we'd be ready bright and early tomorrow.  And that's where we're going, by the way, the apartment.  Stashed some there in my suitcase."

            "Oooh…contraband," she said gleefully.

            "Yep.  And here's the car."

Buffy watched, bemused, as he unthinkingly opened the door for her before hopping in himself.

            "You know, Spike?" she said, climbing in.  "You can really be a gentleman sometimes."

The corner of his mouth twitched again.

            "Yeah?  Well, don't tell anyone."

            "Your secret is safe with me."

            "Better be," he smirked as he started the car.  "Or else there will be…consequences."

            "For you, maybe.  You'd hate for the news to get around that Spike's nothing more than a teddy bear."

            "'m the big bad, baby," he assured her.

They shared a smile and she relaxed in the soft seat, sighing as it molded to her body.  Spike laughed as she let out a lion sized yawn, and playfully punched her shoulder.

            "Go to sleep, puffy.  I'll wake you when we get there."

            "Shut up Spike," she murmured, closing her eyes.

Shaking his head, he gave her a fond smile before turning his attention to the road.  Then turning most of it back to her.  Somehow the girl that had not that long ago been fully alert and awake was now snuggled up in the seat and fast asleep. He couldn't help but chuckle.  She was mumbling softly, biting her bottom lip with white teeth.  Hair fell all over her face, and before he realized what he was doing, he'd gently brushed one gold strand away.  She nuzzled into his fingers and he jerked away, breathing heavily.

Time for using the brain, Spike.  Not gonna take advantage of a sleepin' girl.  And since when are we interested in taking advantage of this girl?  Brainless airhead, remember?  Here only hoping to bag the millionaire.

Just as Spike's eyes were fixed back on the road, refusing his wandering eyes to travel over the girl in the passenger seat, Buffy's eyes blinked open.

            "Spike?  Are we there yet?"

He clenched his hands on the wheel, and counted slowly to ten.

            "This is it," he replied, pulling into the driveway and braking.

He wrenched the door open and slammed it shut behind him, marching up to the door.  Buffy followed, her little fingers grasping his forearm.

            "Are you okay?"

            "Why wouldn't I be?"

She seemed to shrink a little at his harsh tone before straightening her posture and glaring.  

            "If you wanna be a bastard, be my guest," she retorted, turning her back as he fumbled for the key.

Shit.

            "Buffy?" He touched her shoulder but she resolutely stayed turned in the other direction.  "Look, I'm sorry pet.  My bad."

            "Yes, it is," she agreed, but she turned around.

Smiling, he led her up to their door, and stuck the key into the lock.

_            "Idiots américains! Partir tout de suite!"_

Spike winced, hand dropping away from the key.

            "What was that?" Buffy asked, puzzled.

            "Our resident French lady.  Hates Americans."

            _"Oh, il a une amie maintenant. Bientôt ils seront épousés et font marmots plus des américains"_

The old woman marched up to them in her pink sundress, shaking a walking cane menacingly.  Buffy giggled, swiftly slapping her hand over her mouth to hide the sound, but the lady heard.

_            "Loin! Loin!"_

            "What's she saying?"  Buffy asked.  "I only took French in high school."

            "Only know the swears pet," he replied apologetically.  

The lady was approaching, cane waving.  He grabbed Buffy's arm, pulling the door open at the same time, and shoved them both, laughing hysterically, inside.


	10. Chapter 10

Authors note: So sorry for the long wait!  We'll try to get the next chapter our much quicker.  Please, please, please let us know what you think!  It really speeds up the writing process.

Chapter Ten 

It was getting to a point where breathing was becoming a problem.  Falling all over each other and laughing hysterically, they had tumbled into the apartment, narrowly missing the cane as it hit the door.  Seeing the lady's little shoes jumping up and down through the crack between the bottom of the door and the carpet just caused Buffy to laugh more, so hard she doubled over and clutched her stomach.  Hence the not being able to breathe thing.

            "Oh my god," she wheezed, wiping tears from her eyes.  "Is this a daily occurrence?  Cause if it is, you should totally report it to the landlord."

There was some shuffling to her left and suddenly, the room was illuminated.

            "No.  Usually, I can see her through the peephole, glaring at the door like it's her biggest pain of a challenge yet. And no 's not a habit to come home to threats. Well yes, that _is_ a habit, but there's usually no cane involved. As for complaining to the landlord… Well wouldn't do much good seeing as the hag's apparently his wife's mum. Not that I got the impression they were on the best of terms themselves…" 

He scratched the back of his neck wryly, gesturing at the apartment.

            "And this is it."

Standing up, Buffy got a good look at 'it'.  It was shabby, to put it nicely, and had that uncomfortable feel of a home only just moved into.  

            "It's…um…" She paused, unable to think of anything positive for the room.

            "It's a dump," Spike said shortly, sparing her a grin.  "Gotta be thankful for Rupes, 'e lets us stay over most nights."  

"Um, yeah. I would definitely exploit family relations to stay at a mansion as opposed to a…" she paused looking at Spike for approval and he just chuckled an unanimously they said; "Dump"

Suddenly at a complete stand still as to why they both were there and topics of conversation, Spike looked around the apartment, looking for clues. Buffy took a seat on the worn couch and started flicking around the various papers lying on the coffee table, searching for something interesting to keep herself occupied. Spike's eyes bulged. _Don't go there_ he thought. The stacks of papers weren't exactly stacks, in order or anything and there was no telling what kind of papers the girl could actually come across. Production related writings that she really wasn't supposed to know about yet. Information about the other contestants, planned excursions meant to be a surprise and some of his little tidbits of writing. His _own_ writing. Spike panicked.

"Can I get you something to drink?" He said prying her attention off of her task. Moving over to his cupboard, trying to locate anything to serve. "How about some coffee?" He waved the freeze-dried, instant Nescafé and Buffy looked up a moment and scrunched her nose before shaking her head.

"It's really late and I can't see how caffeine would be conducive to a relaxed and sleep-wanting Buffy," she elaborated before going back to her nosy-ness. A little bit annoyed, Spike rolled his eyes before going to the fridge to try and find something else. Of course it was as good as empty. They had orange juice. Leftover orange juice that had been in the apartment before they moved into it and the expiration date was worn away. He considered it for barely a moment before coming to his senses and realizing that food poisoning the girl probably wasn't the best of ideas. Or maybe it would be if she kept up putting her nose where it didn't belong. Namely his papers. Desperate for any diversion, he kept searching. A triumphant grin when he remembered the beer Xander had left in grocery bags in his room. He hurried over and retrieved it. Opening the bottle and handing it to her.

While Buffy looked confused at the proffered bottle, Spike took the opportunity to gather up all the papers in one stack and placing it on the opposite side of the coffee table.

"Now, would it be too much trouble not to poke that crooked little nose of yours in business anything but yours for a few minutes?"

Buffy consciously lifted her hand to her nose. Now that was just rude.. and hurtful! Sure her nose wasn't exactly her prettiest feature, but it wasn't that bad. And sniping about in side comment was, well, just _rude._ However, before she got a chance to retort something about stupid bleached hair, he had already disappeared into his bedroom. She took one moment to wonder about what exactly had caused Spike's mood change from sweet and funny to acid, before she ignored his statement and reached for the now piled paperwork again.

A paper or something interesting to read while she waited would be good. She saw what looked like it could be a newspaper a bit down in the stack and removed the papers on top. Just as she was reaching out for the paper, her eye caught the sheet of handwritten paper lying on top.

_It's poetry_, her mind registered as her eyes traveled down the three verses.

[insert two first lines of pretty here]

She read on and was completely swallowed up by it when Spike re-entered the living room. 

"What, somethin' wrong with your ears, Summers? Or do you just have a knack for doing the exact opposite as you're told." Spike looked like he was at the end of his line, his bright blue eyes on fire with anger when he snatched the paper away from her.

"Nothing wrong with my ears. Or nose. I happen to be very content with my nose and ears thank you very much." This earned a truly confused look from Spike who was now clueless as to when her nose had become an issue.

"What? All I want is to keep out of my soddin' business" Suddenly a notion struck Buffy and her scowl turned into a bright and knowing smile. 

"You wrote that poem didn't you?" for emphasis she tried to grab the sheet of paper again.

"What?! No!!" Spike huffed defensively and brought the poem to his chest to keep it from her prying hands.

Amused, a part of Buffy wanted to push even further. Realizing that would probably get her nowhere she opted for another approach instead. " I thought it was beautiful"

Spike had turned away and stood feet shuffling and looking around for desperate clues as to what he could say to get out of the situation when her soft compliment, reached him. "You did?" he asked and wanted to give himself a good slap in the head for sounding like a complete poof. He looked right and did the only thing he could to come out with his masculinity intact. "Well, it's not mine," he lied. When Buffy just gave her the '_suure_' smile he lied some more. "It's Angel's. To use later in the competition to swoon one of you girls," he said that with just the perfect amount of exasperation. Feeling very satisfied off of Buffy's frown, he turned and indulged in a smug smile.

"Can't wait to meet Angel then," Buffy commented from behind him.  "If he can write this good, I mean.  Wonder why he isn't published."

Startled, Spike turned to face her.

            "Y-you don't think – I mean, you think someone would publish that?"

Buffy studied her fingernails for a moment before meeting his eyes.

            "I think that anyone with half a brain would jump at the chance," she told him, and abruptly turned to face the wall.  "We should be heading back, anyway.  You've got your cigarettes, and we both need some sleep before tomorrow."

***

As Jake stirred the chocolate on the stove, Tara sat, legs tucked up underneath her in what looked like a very uncomfortable position in one of the wicker chairs. Every once in a while pairs of pale blue eyes would meet, Jake would offer her a gentle smile, Tara would return it before shifting uncomfortably on her perch. The last 15 minutes had been a repeat performance of just that sequence. Coming to the conclusion that the chocolate was thoroughly heated, Jake grabbed two mugs from the cupboard and filled them almost to the rim with brown and hot liquid. Careful not to spill any, he cautiously balanced the cups over to the table where Tara sat.

"Here you go," he said, placing one of the mugs in front of her before taking a seat on the opposite side of the table. After a few sips and some more shifting from Tara, Jake stood up and held out his hand in offering. Tara watched with an almost startled look, from his hand, to his eyes and back again. Hesitantly she took it and Jake silently led her out of the kitchen and down one of the hallways into the wing where Giles lived. The wing that was off limits.

"Wait, Jake. We can't go there. Mr. Wy-Wyndam-Price said  Mr. Giles' quarters were-" Jake turned and put a finger to his lips gesturing for her to be quiet and she immediately abided. Tara's cheeks colored a nice shade of pink and she lowered her head, staring at her own laces.

With a finger under her chin, Jake encouraged her to look up to his face again. He looked back and forth from her two blue-gray eyes. "Don't worry that pretty little head of yours" He stepped back a couple of feet and Tara's eyes instinctually fluttered from the lack of contact. "Look at me," he said, opening his arms for an inspection and with a little gesture? Twitch? of his arms. "I'm the janitor, I have all access, so if you're with me you have nothing to worry about. Besides, I just wanna show you a safe place, a place I can promise you none of the creepy crawlers can get to you"

Jake turned and Tara followed. They entered what looked like a miniature library. Bookshelves, a few recliners a coffee table and a fireplace. A kind of big and a little out of place fireplace. It had two ornate miniature gargoyles fixed on the mantle, which combined with the black iron of it made it look sort of creepy. Jake walked over to the left of the gargoyles and turned it ninety degrees so it was facing the other gargoyle. The sound emanating from the fireplace was like two heavy stones were being ground together. 

Tara let out a yelp that Jake didn't seem to hear. He crouched a little bit to fit into the fireplace's opening and reached his hand out for Tara to hold onto again. Tara on the other hand stood still, a little bit baffled. She couldn't push off the feeling that she had suddenly arrived in a movie, or some big mystery book. Who on earth _really_ had secret passages? Rupert Giles apparently. 

"Come on, nothing in here's gonna hurt you. Nothing to worry about. Unless you're in a really bad way claustrophobic too, but even then it's gonna be alright in just a few, you'll see," Jake tried to convince her.

Tara only shook her head and took his hand, closed her eyes and let Jake guide her. She heard a little rustling and then the same grinding sound as the wall slipped back in place behind her.

"You can open your eyes now. Not gonna see much 'till I manage to light up the place though" Tara heard Jake's soothing voice from a couple of feet away. She heard a match light and a second after Jake could bee seen shadowing the first of the big wax candles that were surrounding the room. One by one he lighted them all until the room was illuminated with a soft light. There were no windows, but it was large enough to put any claustrophobia to ease.

Unlike the rest of the house the room wasn't decorated in a very strict and clean way. Feminine would maybe be an exaggeration, but the room had throw pillows and what looked like a functioning fireplace. It looked sort of like a romantic getaway.

"This was decorated by Jenny, the mistress of the house before she passed away," Jake answered Tara's unspoken question. He sat down and leaned back against one of the cushions "See, this rooms sealed off, only connected to the library outside and a passage way through there" he pointed to what looked like a crack in the wall. "You're perfectly safe here. If you're ever worried you come hide away here. Giles has never come in here after Jenny died. It can be your safe place," he finished gently. Tara offered him a bright smile in gratitude and sat down.

Jake seemed amerced in his hot chocolate, and Tara took the opportunity to observe him as they both sat quietly on the cushions.  He had a kind of long face, but in a nice way, not in a stretched out noodle kind of way.  His head was covered with messy dirty blond hair, and one strand near his ear stubbornly stuck up.  As he watched, he absentmindedly smoothed in back and sighed as it bounced out of place again.  

He saw her looking at him and gave her a quick smile, and Tara shyly looked away, but not before getting a good glimpse of his light brown eyes.  She usually thought blue was the prettiest color, especially the bright blue some lucky people got, but on Jake…brown looked pretty darn good.  

"We should be heading back," he spoke up softly, causing Tara's eyes to dart back to him.  "But now you'll know where this place is, in case you need to get away."

Tara followed him out the secret passageway, and he led the way to her corridor.  When they reached her door, he gave her a last smile and wave, and turned to go.

"Hey Jake?" she called softly.  "Thanks."

Laughing, he winked at her.

"Was my pleasure."

Tara watched him walk down the hallway until he turned, smiling to herself.  When she lost sight of his back, she shook her head, and opened the door, only to narrowly avoid smashing into Buffy.

"Shit!" Buffy squealed, grabbing hold of the door to keep herself from falling.  

Giggling, Tara helped her up, and they righted themselves.

"I was just going to find you," Buffy said, frowning.  "I got back, and no one was here."

"Oh!  I was…well, after the snake, when Spike went off after you – did he find you, by the way?"

"Uh…yeah.  Made me go with him to find some cigarettes too, that's why I'm so late."

Frowning, Tara checked her watch.

"If you just got back, you've been gone a long time…"

Buffy yawned, suddenly very interested in her bed coverings.

"It's really late," she said, yawning again.  "And we've got to be up way too early tomorrow."

"Right," Tara agreed, tactfully stopping the conversation.  "Night Buffy, I'll see you in the morning."

***


End file.
